Forget Me Not
by KLMeri
Summary: When Jim spends time with his First Officer and CMO, he seems sad. Neither Spock nor McCoy can figure out why. K/S/M. - COMPLETE
1. Part One

**Title**: Forget Me Not (1/?)  
**Author**: klmeri  
**Fandom**: Star Trek TOS  
**Pairing**: Kirk/Spock/McCoy  
**Summary**: When Jim spends time with his First Officer and CMO, he seems sad. Neither Spock nor McCoy can figure out why.  
**A/N**: I give up. I'll just write my own K/S/M.

* * *

_I made the mistake of thinking I had something I could keep. ...That my happiness, and theirs along with mine, could never be taken away._

_The man who hopes too much is the fool. It seems this is a lesson I must continue to learn until I hope no more._

Personal Log, James T. Kirk

[~~~]

"Jim!" Leonard McCoy, senior medical officer of the Enterprise, calls as he catches sight of one wayward starship captain. "Hold up a minute!"

The man farther along the corridor comes to a standstill. McCoy slips around a group of crewmen and jogs the last few feet to the man's side. He notes the tense set of Kirk's shoulders but that is nothing new.

"Hey," he says, "you haven't forgotten our date, have you?" He grins a little to show that the question is partly a jest.

Jim turns to look at him, the humor apparently not catching. "I'm not aware we had an appointment scheduled... Bones." He voices the nickname after a second of hesitation, as if the word itself might be painful to say.

Leonard rocks back on his heels, confused. "In preparation for the ambassador's arrival—didn't you say you wanted to talk to Spock and I about the presentation beforehand?"

"Oh," the Captain replies.

For a brief moment Jim looks like he wants badly to find an excuse so he can claim he is otherwise occupied, it's a no-can-do. Leonard reads that easily enough in his face, feeling more baffled by the second and also concerned. Somewhat reluctantly, he offers his commanding officer a way out. "Look, if you're busy, I think we've done this sort of meet-and-greet enough times that—"

"No, no," Jim assures him with undue haste, "it's fine, Bones. We can talk about it..."

"In your quarters over dinner?" The words simply pop out of Leonard's mouth, unbidden.

"...in your office, if that won't inconvenience you." Jim swallows and adds, like he is making a concession to an unpleasant idea, "Then I suppose we could go to the cafeteria for dinner."

Leonard nods, because he doesn't see why it should make a difference where they gather to talk ship's business. ...Should it? And why had he suggested using the captain's personal quarters? He has never been there through an invitation from Kirk, much less by rudely inviting himself.

Come to think of it, he never really strays from Sickbay. What a depressing thought that is!

In the meantime, Jim has given a short nod of his own to signify the end to their conversation and is moving along the corridor, albeit with a slightly stiff gait. McCoy watches the man until he disappears around a corner, not quite certain why he should be so disturbed by the lack of friendly feeling between them.

* * *

Commander Spock should be the one person Leonard doesn't want to be friends with, yet to say his entire countenance brightens when the Vulcan walks into the medical bay would be an understatement.

"Spock!" the doctor crows, immediately forgetting what he had intended to do with the tricorder in his hand.

Spock stops short upon seeing the excited Dr. McCoy.

Following a sheepish cough to cover up his enthusiasm, "What brings you by Sickbay?" Leonard asks.

"Doctor, you requested my presence."

Leonard bounces slightly on the balls of his feet. "I did, didn't I?" he says cheerfully. Lifting his free hand, he beckons the Vulcan closer. "Well, c'mon then!"

Spock's approach is unnecessarily slow and cautious. Annoyance flares in Leonard, like it had been just out of sight waiting patiently for such an event to occur. "Hurry up! I don't bite, you green-blooded...!" The doctor blinks upon hearing himself and shuts up. Was he just going to insult the First Officer of the Enterprise?

Spock's eyebrows clearly wonder the same thing.

"Never mind," McCoy says gruffly and turns away, putting the tricorder back on a tray of medical equipment. As he heads through the main area of the bay (where he had been loitering, though CMOs aren't supposed to loiter when they're bored) to his office, he catches one of his nurses staring and narrows his eyes at her. She grins back and gives him a thumbs-up. Suddenly frightened by what his staff might be thinking, Leonard picks up his pace and arrives at his destination in record time.

He nearly breaks the door's close button when he jabs at it on the heels of Spock's entrance. After a mutter and the input of a code, the door slips shut.

"Do you intend to lock us in or lock someone out?" comes the curious question at his back.

"Somethin' wrong with the nurses," Leonard explains vaguely.

"...I see. You are aware the Captain will not be pleased when he arrives and cannot enter."

"Computer," Leonard calls, grudgingly realizing that Spock is right, "unlock CMO's office for entrance of James T. Kirk only."

The ship's computer answers easily, _For engaged setting override, provide proper voice command._

Leonard opens his mouth, only to close it, bemused.

Spock asks for him, "Computer, what is the engaged setting?"

_Engaged setting 2890._

Leonard looks at the keypad in surprise. Had he typed in 2890? But the normal locking code was different! "My god, I'm losing my mind."

"Computer, please provide detail for setting 2890."

"Spock..." Leonard tries to intercede.

_Setting 2890. Locking mechanism to be disengaged by voice command of one of following personnel: James T. Kirk, Captain; Leonard H. McCoy, Chief Medical Officer; Spock, First Officer and Science Officer. Required voice command... ERROR. Unauthorized data request._

Spock's eyebrows come down. "Computer, this is Commander Spock." He gives his security clearance. "What is the required voice command of setting 2890?"

_ERROR. Unauthorized data request._

Leonard tries his security clearance, and when that doesn't work, tries overriding the setting through the keypad. Every code he can think up is denied. "What the heck's wrong with this thing? Computer, open the door!" He delivers a swift kick to the door to emphasize his point. The kick jars him more than the metal structure.

Spock insinuates himself between the irate doctor and the closed door. "I do not believe such abuse will affect the outcome of our situation."

"But we're locked in!"

"Affirmative."

Spock's calm reply makes Leonard realize just how badly he screwed up. "Spock... _I locked us in_." He feels the blood drain out of his head.

In the next instant, he is being steered to a chair. "Sit," the Vulcan orders.

Leonard sits.

Once Leonard doesn't keel over and looks more alert, Spock clasps his hands behind his back. "Why did you use that particular code to lock your door, Doctor?"

"I didn't even know I did! " His only guess is a lame one. "...Out of habit, maybe?"

"Yet you do not know the voice command to disengage it."

"No," Leonard answers miserably.

"Fascinating."

He boggles at the Vulcan. "Spock, what's the matter with you?" Anger creeps into Leonard's voice. "We're locked in a space no bigger than a storage closet for god's sake, and all you can say is _fascinating_!"

Spock regards him for a long minute. Leonard feels his blood pressure rising under that frank scrutiny, until at last it dawns on him why Spock isn't panicking. "Oh, Jim's on his way."

"Precisely. Whether or not the Captain knows the voice command, he has the highest security clearance aboard this vessel."

Leonard pulls at his bottom lip in thought. "So what happens if _he_ can't get in?"

"I fear I may have to alter the control panel."

Leonard glances up at Spock, feeling a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. "You mean you'll get to impress me by showing off your brains _and_ your brawn."

"That is an illogical assumption."

McCoy thinks that tone of voice is the equivalent of a smile from Spock. He doesn't know why—given he isn't closer to the Vulcan than an acquaintance and fellow commanding officer would be—but he does. Absently, he rubs at his forehead where a faint pain resonates before disappearing.

Spock moves away as he speaks. "May I ask why you wished to see me in advance of our appointment?"

_I just wanted to see you_. He would be embarrassed if he says that so he tries instead, "I thought maybe we could... talk a little bit."

"Concerning what matter?"

What could they talk about that can't be addressed at any other time? Do they interact if that interaction isn't related to ship's business? McCoy doesn't think so, though for some bizarre reason he wants to the answer to be _yes_.

"Jim," he says on instinct, which afterward seems like a valid concern. As First Officer, the captain is a number-one priority for Spock.

It's evident he has piqued the Vulcan's interest when Spock returns to stand before him, gaze intent. "Please explain."

"I'd ask if he seems funny to you, but I'm beginning to think I'm the one who's gone funny." He points at his temple to emphasize what kind of funny he really means. "He acts like, like we're not _friends_, but I guess," Leonard finishes softly, "we aren't. I mean, have we ever been?" That final question comes out sounding hopeful. Watching Spock, Leonard realizes an answer from Spock is likely beyond what the Vulcan can do. McCoy's shoulders slump of their own accord.

Spock surprises him. "You feel as though there is a missing component to your relationship with the Captain."

"Yes!" Then, after scrutinizing the person in front of him, Leonard suspects the unspoken meaning behind the remark. "You act like you know exactly what I am talking about."

Spock looks away as he replies. "Perhaps I understand something of the sensation, Doctor."

Meaning Spock is hesitant to give him a full answer. Well, no matter. A certainty takes a hold of Leonard; he can pester the Vulcan into talking. Spock will tell him everything, and Leonard will stand up and slide his hand along the Vulcan's arm until their fingers...

Shocked by the audacity of his thoughts, Leonard recoils in his chair.

"Dr. McCoy?" Spock questions, a hint of concern in his normally controlled baritone.

Leonard begins to lift his gaze to Spock's, knowing nothing is hidden in his eyes but also knowing Spock would not judge him as another might...

...when the office door slides open, and a man steps out of the hallway light into the room.

"Jim?" The name falls like a weighted stone into the softness of the moment, destroying it.

Something flickers across Kirk's features when he looks between them. Then that something is gone, leaving only the flat question: "Is there a reason you locked me out, Dr. McCoy?"

Spock shifts, drawing Jim's attention. "Captain, how did you disengage the lock?"

"With the—" Jim starts to say, only to stop. "My clearance," he answers shortly, dismissively, circling where they are in front of McCoy's desk to find his own chair.

Leonard and Spock exchange a quick glance once Kirk's back is turned.

Jim just lied, that much is obvious to them. But why?

"Let's keep this meeting brief, gentlemen," the Captain informs his two senior officers as he takes a seat along the wall. "I am needed elsewhere."

Leonard finds himself nodding, getting up from his chair to circle his desk and pull up the report on their newest diplomatic mission. He does not have the heart to argue when he is so confused himself.

* * *

The delegation represents a race of nomadic space colonists called the K'lthery originating from a small sector of the Alpha quadrant where their home planet was long ago absorbed by a sun. They seem like a genteel people, trading in small homemade wares when they pass through a space port that some art dealers resale for a high-end profit to avid collectors. This is not their first contact with the Federation. But since they have so little interest in intergalactic politics, the K'lthery treat the Federation like a third cousin to be visited once in a while for posterity's sake. The Federation operates on the policy that no show of good will, however superfluous, should be ignored so the visits are always welcomed.

And just like the distant relative with something to prove, Leonard thinks with wry amusement, the Federation sends out its flagship to greet the K'lthery, banners proudly waving.

If he didn't have to sit through this formal dinner looking like he was glad to be here, he would happily hide in a medical lab somewhere. The K'lthery are not intimidating physically, as they are quite small, but they do give off an unsettling vibe that makes Leonard feel uncomfortable in his own skin.

Maybe it's because they are all female.

He's not quite certain how that works for their race, but apparently it does and has for a long time. He suspects that biologically 'female' is not what they actually are, though they assure the Federation this terminology is the easiest way to describe their reproductive process. They quite literally give birth to themselves. When the new body takes its first breath, the old body takes its last. There is, researchers have been told, a transfer of consciousness, of the essence that makes each of them unique.

Which makes Leonard wonder exactly how old these people are if they have been continuously re-birthing themselves as the next generation.

The smallest K'lthery is the ambassador. Her skin has the typical paper-thin, translucent blue sheen of her race. What sets her apart besides her tiny size is the color of her eyes. They are a warm gold, whereas the others have silver or startlingly white irises. In Leonard's opinion, the skin color and eyes combined with the wing-like appendages that serve as her arms make the ambassador look like a sprite or fairy from a child's storybook.

Currently, the ambassador is focused on Jim. No doubt, she finds him as charming as females typically do. Leonard makes a _hmph_ under his breath and pokes at his food.

"We have looked forward to this meeting for many days, Captain."

"You honor us, Ambassador Kee."

Leonard smirks at the memory of Jim trying to pronounce her full name and shoves something leafy into his mouth so he doesn't laugh out loud. During the initial greeting ceremony, she had giggled, a cute tinkling sound, and suggested the shorted name to save Jim further embarrassment.

"We are the honored ones," demurs Kee.

Jim gives Kee and her entourage his best boyish grin.

_Flirt_, Leonard accuses in his head.

One of the other K'lthery lean in to say something to the ambassador. Kee nods and addresses Jim afterwards with some intense emotion glowing in her round face. "We have heard of your great partnership. It is why we agreed to meet you before the movement of our colony. Tell us of this, Captain."

"Partnership?" Kirk repeats, his expression suddenly less easy.

"Yes. It is common knowledge among my people, for we take great joy in the joy of others. "

Jim's face grows paler in the room's bright lighting.

The ambassador does not seem to notice as she swivels her head to peer at the Vulcan seated to Jim's right, then to McCoy who is on the other side of Spock. "These are your life partners?" Like a bird's, her head makes sharp movements of curiosity upon her small neck. "Well met, younglings."

Kee's tone is too somber to be mistaken as joking.

Leonard chokes on his mouthful of salad and has to spit it into his napkin before he inhales it into his lungs. "Excuse me?" He doesn't know which part he should be protesting—the assumption he's married to Kirk or the suggestion that by comparison he is a toddler to the ambassador and her people—but he ought to have a bone or two to pick about something! "Watch who you're callin' young!" Leonard settles on.

"Dr. McCoy, I believe Ambassador Kee meant no insult."

At Spock's placating tone, the Chief Engineer suddenly bends over his food like he is very interested in the arrangement of lettuce on his plate. Leonard would throw a fork at the man if his aim wasn't so poor he'd probably end up clocking the Chief of Security on the head instead. Then Jim would stick him in the brig overnight for ruining a diplomatic dinner. There's only one other option available.

Lifting his eating utensil with a menacing air, Leonard waves it under Spock's nose. "I'm sure she didn't. Just the same, I'm a grown man by _my_ people's standards, and I expect some due courtesy."

Spock's eyebrow lifts as if to say, amused, _Is this a problem with them or me?_

"Hm. I apologize for any offense given to your healer-doctor," Kee replies serenely to Kirk at the head of the table.

The apology falls on deaf ears because Leonard is distracted by an unexpected rush of affection for Spock. He finds it difficult to tear his eyes away from the Vulcan's, despite the flush creeping up his neck and the awkward silence blooming on the other side of the table.

Then Jim says, "_Bones_" not sharp or reprimanding but nearly as strangled as the words caught in McCoy's throat, and the spell breaks. Leonard apologizes to his dinner companions, blinking vaguely as his thoughts become less fuzzy, and sits back in his chair, gaze fixed resolutely on the glass of water near his left hand. Eventually and without any real reason, he has to glance down at his ring finger. It held the weight of a simple gold band until he was in his mid-thirties. That weight seems to be present now. Why it's haunting him, he does not know.

Spock is very adept at politely steering a conversation into neutral territory. Maybe it is because the Vulcan's father is an ambassador and Spock was taught something of the trade before he entered Starfleet. But whatever the reason for Spock's skill, Leonard is grateful to have him at the table in that moment.

He finally stops contemplating his left hand and sneaks a glance Jim's way to gage the man's mood. Kirk too looks grateful for Spock, until his eyes seek and hold McCoy's. Then Leonard realizes (a realization that dries up the words in his mouth) Jim is not simply grateful when looking at Spock—he is heartbroken.

Silence seems the best choice for rest of the evening. When the meal is over, Leonard is not the only person anxious to get out of the stifling room. As he hurriedly comes abreast of the deck's turbolift, tugging at the collar of his formal dress tunic, Scotty is nearly on his heels.

"You all right there, Doctor?" the Chief Engineer asks him as they step into the lift and it begins its descent into the ship. As if he knows why Leonard is silent, he remarks kindly, "Donnae worry about the Capt'n. He's made a scene or two in front of an honored guest himself."

Leonard cannot help but snort. "Yes, he has. Thanks, Scotty, but—" He sighs deeply through his nose. "—it's not Jim I'm worried about." _Liar_, a voice in his head retorts.

"...Oh." The engineer does look genuinely concerned. "Then was it about what that ambassador said?"

Leonard frowns at the man next to him. "What'd she say?"

Scotty makes a noise of surprise. "You musta had more ale 'n me." Then the man simply shakes his head. "Och. Best to leave it be. 'Twas one of many misunderstandings we're sure to have with those people!"

Leonard agrees, still somewhat perplexed by Mr. Scott's reference but ready to let it slide.

Later, as he pulls off his boots and lies upon his small bed, he will make the connection. Following that, he will conclude he isn't nearly as bothered by the notion of being so close to Jim—or Spock, once he reflects honestly on the thought—as he should be.

Strange, that. He doesn't know either of them well enough to feel that way.


	2. Part Two

_That they will find each other I know for certain. And who deserves happiness more? As I look on, I think of how much I want it for them both, whether that happiness lasts only a moment or a lifetime._

_But while I am relieved, I am also unimaginably afraid._

Personal Log, James T. Kirk

[~~~]

Doctor McCoy is strange, even for a human. That strangeness is what lures Spock into association with him.

"We don't do this often," McCoy remarks in an unhurried manner, sitting back in his chair to fold his hands across his stomach and gaze at the Vulcan seated at the other side of the table.

Spock lifts his eyebrow, knowing that the human wants him to answer that illogical observation. And illogical it is, since this is their very first interaction which does not in any way pertain to the functioning of the ship or its crew. Leonard's response to his silence is to smile.

In this moment, Spock is unusually relaxed in the doctor's company. Given that they have begun to have disagreements as of late (one of which Spock maintains he is quite justified in—why should the CMO need clearance to access the Bridge on a non-emergency basis?), this companionable feeling is welcome.

"Would you care for more tea, Doctor?"

Leonard shakes his head and fidgets with the handle of his empty cup. Perhaps the human is waiting for Spock begin a particular vein of conversation. Except Leonard saves him from having to choose a topic by saying, "Any word from Jim?"

"As you are undoubtedly aware, he reports in every four hours."

"I didn't mean if he's doing all right. 'Course he is. He's dawdling on a space station in the company of a bunch of pixies!"

Spock knows what a pixie is; that is, he knows what the terminology is meant to represent. It is, of course, simpler to find out the precise context in which the doctor uses the word by requesting, "Please explain the nature of a 'pixie', Doctor."

That prompts a pleased expression to blossom on the human's face. "Why, pixies aren't unlike Vulcans, Mr. Spock—with the pointy ears 'n all."

"The K'lthery do not have ears."

For some reason, this remark causes Leonard to roll his eyes ceiling-ward. He seems overly fond of performing that action. Spock must assume the dramatic movement does not tax the muscles encapsulating his eyes.

"I swear, one of these days you're gonna respond with a joke of your own, and I'll have flat-out have a heart attack!"

He must strive not to 'joke' with the doctor, then. To replace a CMO requires an abundance of paperwork. After he relates this to McCoy, the man lets out a peal of laughter, slapping a hand against his knee repeatedly.

"Oh," Leonard says as his laughter dies down, "oh my god, you don't even know when you're doing it..."

"Doctor," Spock intercedes, feeling a heat gather along the edges of his ears, "I do not appreciate you making a jest of me."

McCoy lifts his hands like he thinks Spock might stand up and leave. "No, no, Spock. You're right. That was unconscionable of me." He clears his throat, and the remaining traces of humor are gone when he speaks again. "I'm sorry if I've embarrassed you, Commander."

His sincerity mollifies Spock. "Your apology is accepted." However, if this situation is to be avoided again... He asks slowly, "Could you explain why my statement was humorous to you?"

Leonard drops his hands to the table and leans forward, his countenance softening as he considers something about Spock. "You know," he says finally, "I think I could really, really like you."

There is no logical reply to that comment, except an expression of gratitude. Spock finds himself holding back from saying even that much.

The doctor does not seem to notice. He goes on to elaborate the 'hysterical' quality of 'an abundance of paperwork' in regards to the addition of a new officer to the crew. Spock is more than slightly confused halfway through the attempt to follow the doctor's non-linear thinking. He concludes (in the privacy of his own mind) that humans are prone to laughter and therefore more prone to finding unusual humor in the most mundane of conversation. He will contemplate why this is at a later time. It's evident by the expectant look on McCoy's face that the man has finished his 'explanation about the finer points of being funny', and Spock is required to thank him for such wisdom.

He does, though his tone is not particularly gracious.

"So, no questions?" the human asks, narrowing his eyes.

"None, Dr. McCoy," Spock assures him.

With his trademark sound of a disapproving _hmph_, McCoy slouches in his chair. "Let it never be said I didn't try."

Also let it never be said that Spock did not attempt to understand a human mind. He suspects if he says this, the doctor will either laugh again or bristle at perceived insult.

Leonard's expression changes then, as he glances away towards the entrance to Spock's quarters. "You ever get a feeling of déjà-vu, Mr. Spock?" A moment later he clarifies, "Like we're doing something we've done before even though we're pretty certain we haven't?"

Despite having heard of déjà-vu (from his mother said in a soft, absent-minded tone at some point during his childhood), Spock does not understand the concept of mistaking a new event for an old one. "Memories are stored in linear sequence, Doctor, thus precipitating the—"

A hand waves away the rest of his attempted explanation. "I know, I know. But the human brain isn't as—and lord forbid I admit this!—powerful of a processor as that computer you call a brain, Spock. Our recall can be spotty, and sometimes things like memories get tucked away in places we can't readily access. That's why we make such an important distinction between short-term and long-term memory. Often it feels like some things get dropped in a no man's land in between." Leonard purses his mouth in a thoughtful manner. "Heck, I don't even remember what was served at that fancy dinner with the K'lthery."

Interesting. "You obviously remember the event itself."

A twinkling enters the human's eyes. "Sure, 'n other things besides." The slow stretch of his mouth becomes a grin. "Like that an entire race of beings think we're space married to our captain."

It is not the most neutral subject they could converse about—he should have known McCoy would bring it up. "I believe that was a case of misinformation, Doctor."

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" Leonard's gaze un-focuses for a moment as it wanders past Spock's shoulder. "The thought sure spooked Jim, though."

Spock steeples his fingers in one of his preferred poses for intellectual discussion. "The Captain did seem inordinately disturbed by Ambassador Kee's remark. I believe in another instance he may have—as you explained earlier—treated it as an attempt at humor."

"Maybe he's repulsed by the idea of any kind of romantic entanglement with two men, let alone two of his ship's senior officers."

"Illogical."

Leonard is laughing again. He clamps a hand over his mouth to mute the laughter which, to Spock, seems a pointless effort. "Sorry," the man apologizes seconds afterward, "it's just you sounded so _certain_."

Spock's eyebrows furrow. "I am taking into account Captain Kirk's predisposition, Dr. McCoy."

"Predisposition to what? Flirt with anything on two legs?"

Spock has seen Kirk flirt with a being that had _no_ legs. However, it seems unnecessary to mention that. "I refer to his proclivity towards affection in the presence of—" He stops short of completing the sentence because the moment the words leave his mouth he knows they are wrong. They are wrong, yet not incorrect.

Leonard watches him as a silence builds in the room, his expression turning troubled. "Spock?"

Spock is baffled. The doctor had said he sounded certain. Where had the certainty come from? And this knowledge of which he began to speak—where had _it_ come from?

"Spock."

Doctor McCoy had moved in the interim to stand by his side. Spock rises from his chair without knowing why, unsettled by the inability to track down the origin of the thought or feeling.

"Hey," a gentle voice coaxes, "what is it? What's wrong?" A hand lifts toward Spock, stalls just shy of touching him, either hesitant or uncertain of the welcome of physical contact.

McCoy.

No, _Leonard._

In the instant Spock focuses on the human, he reaches for the wrist just within his grasp, driven by a vague impulse. He is imbalanced; here is a thing which will give him back firm ground on which to stand and to think.

As the sensitive pads of Spock's fingers make contact with skin, sensations flash across his mind, a frission of them, like tiny sparks or starbursts: surprise, flaring white hot; curiosity, startling in its perfect reflection of his own curiosity; and the undercurrent beneath both—a subtle, sweet pleasure.

Spock is touching Leonard, and Leonard likes it. Moreover, the pleasure has an echo to it; it is not a new feeling for Leonard.

Giving in to a strong temptation, Spock lets himself be caught in the eddy of emotions, following the eddy along Leonard's arm past the elbow and to the shoulder, then beyond. The eddy carries him to the human's mind, and after the mere press past a thin barrier, he is inside. Leonard is no longer Leonard, and Spock is no longer Spock.

Experiencing Leonard's mind is like looking into kaleidoscope. When the human's awareness shifts, as it does now at Spock's presence, thoughts and emotions fall into a new pattern. The process is not as chaotic as it seems; rather it is intricate in a way Spock has never encountered before.

On the outside, where physical sensation seems far away, Spock's body draws a deep breath.

This mind is more than merely fascinating, more than an odd resonance he automatically responds to. This mind is...

Familiar.

The more he sinks into it, the more reluctant he is to leave. Only his concern and the strength of his scruples prompt Spock to withdraw far enough that he can regain himself. The awareness of his body returns with a jolt, painful and breath-stealing as a splash of cold water. But separating what is part of him and what is part of Leonard is more difficult than it should be; he can feel the weight of his fingertips resting along McCoy's face as if it is his own skin they are pressed against.

This is a proper _kash-nohv_, a melding of minds. When Spock initiated the full connection with Leonard, he cannot recall. Had he begun the _kash-nohv_ with the ritual incantation, or simply dived in?

That thought shocks him. He speaks, suddenly afraid but requiring an answer to a terrible question. "Am I hurting you?"

Leonard's eyes are at half-mast. At the sound of Spock's voice, the human subconsciously leans into Spock's hand.

"No." McCoy's voice is deeper than usual, but not rough or imbued with fear.

This is not the way it should be. What he is doing is _dangerous_, bordering on a crime without the human's consent, though in response to the slightest push forward, Leonard's mind opens to Spock's like a flower would at a hint of sun.

The connection is wrong. It has to be broken.

"Don't!" Leonard grabs Spock's wrist to stop his hand from lifting away, that intention—or the feeling of it—somehow translating between them.

"Doctor, this is..." _Not safe_. _Not allowed._

"It's amazing," Leonard answers for him, his tone dazed, yet holding a hint of defiance. "Your mind, Spock, it's like... cool glass."

"You can feel my mind?"

"Mm," the other man says, and there is wonder in that sound. "Can a mind be a glasshouse? Very stark, all clean lines. Nothing is hidden but everything has its proper place."

Spock has never heard of a description such as this before. Nor has he encountered someone who would picture a Self thus through a traditional _kash-nohv_.

Leonard's tone lightens but his words are no less sincere. "You're very beautiful."

Spock thinks he understands what Leonard is trying to tell him. There is beauty to be found in the workings of the human's mind as well. But with regret, he has to dismiss the flattering remark in lieu of addressing what holds more priority. "I must break our connection now, Doctor."

"But why?"

Spock can only answer with the truth. "I must think on what has transpired between us, and I wish my mind to be my own when I do so."

There is a wave of understanding from McCoy, colored by embarrassment, as the man absorbs what Spock is saying—and what he is not. "Oh," Leonard murmurs faintly. Then, with more strength, "All right. I'm sorry."

Spock draws to the bare edges of Leonard's consciousness, the veiling around the mind, and suppressing a quick sense of loss, closes the open connection between them, at the same time lifting his fingertips from the psy-points along the human's cheekbone and nose.

Silence hangs between them for a long moment.

Spock lowers his hand as he studies the play of emotion cross Leonard's face, not having anticipated how easy it now seems to interpret what the doctor is feeling. The embarrassment is there; disappointment also.

And longing.

"Spock..." Leonard begins, only to pause. A redness infuses his skin. "...What was that?"

"I apologize for the intrusion, Dr. McCoy. I did not ask before I initiated the mind-meld. I should have, but I did not." He fully understands what he has done—and it is not something he can hide from himself, let alone from the innocent standing before him. "I violated your trust as well as your mind."

A smile tips up the corners of the other man's mouth. "First, it's Leonard. I want you to call me Leonard, Spock. Second, let's not use that word 'violate'. I think I'd know if I'd been violated and..." The flush under his skin increases. "...what just happened was not unwelcome."

"You fail to understand the gravity of the situation, Doctor. Perhaps you may see no harm in the action, but that is not acceptable to me. Would you agree that the touching of our minds was intimate?"

Leonard nods.

"Then, by not first gaining your consent, I have committed an act considered unforgivable. To my people it is _kaelat k'lasa_, a crime punishable by death."

Leonard's eyes widen, and one of his hands takes a hold of Spock's upper arm. "Don't say that!"

"I can speak only the truth."

"Spock!"

He feels for this human. That is also a truth, one which does not surprise Spock however much it should.

Leonard, in his passionate rebuttal, gives Spock's arm a slight shake. "You're not listening, you stubborn hobgoblin!"

Has Leonard said something? How unusual that he would not catch it. "Yes, Doctor?"

"Leonard, damn it—Leonard!"

"Very well. Leonard."

"I said how'd you know there was a lack of consent?"

Spock blinks. "Excuse me?"

"Do you think anybody could just monkey around in my head and some part of me wouldn't react to that?"

Leonard draws Spock closer; at any moment, they will be pressed chest-to-chest. Leonard does not seem to care about his diminished personal space, so caught up in his rationalization is he.

"I... I _recognized_ you, Spock, or my mind did. It's like when somebody you know is coming over and you unlock the door in anticipation of their arrival. Once you..." Leonard's speech falters for a moment. "...you touched my wrist, I just knew what you'd do next. I would have fought you if I'd been afraid."

"You could not have anticipated it."

"Why not?" Leonard demands. "Because you're surprised by it yourself? I'm telling you what I know!"

"Leonard, do not misunderstand my disbelief. I know you are relating the truth to me as you understand it. Yet, logically, that truth does not coincide with fact. The first joining of our minds occurred only moments ago."

The human swallows hard. "Could we be wrong?"

Spock watches him, trying to reconcile what the man is implying with what he knows.

"Could it... not be our first time, Spock?" Leonard's gaze implores him to allow for the possibility.

"I do not see how."

"But I know you."

"As I know you," he answers on instinct. "Doctor..." After careful consideration of his next words, Spock requests, "Leonard, you must let go of me."

Startled, Leonard looks at his fingers wrapped around Spock's arm, as if he'd forgotten they were still touching. "Oh." Leonard releases him.

"You must also grant me time to consider my action. Can you do this, Leonard?"

"Will you be all right?"

That would be an odd question coming from any other person but Leonard McCoy. "I assure you that I will."

The man nods and steps back.

Spock feels a pang of disappointment at the loss of their physical nearness. The feeling could be the result of emotional transference, but Spock recognizes the flavor of his own emotions, despite what little use he normally has of them. For a brief second, he imagines himself asking Leonard to stay while he meditates.

...That thought has no origin, either.

Spock locks his hands behind his back. Something is wrong with him. How the wrongness relates to Leonard McCoy is unknown. But he does acknowledge there can be no hope of an answer until he makes a proper evaluation of the state of his mind.

With Leonard watching him, his thoughts seem to give a collective shiver. A part of him, the tightly controlled facet of his Self that somehow slipped its leash during the _kash-nohv_, wants to reach out and force his way back into Leonard's mind. It wants to create an anchor point there where it can always return.

Spock still retains the power to deny it, but Leonard must go. He hears himself dismiss the man with a rather terse "Good night, Doctor."

Leonard trails to the door of Spock's quarters, the line of his shoulders speaking of reluctance and a clear hope Spock will stop him. Spock does not. When the door slides closed upon the doctor's retreating figure, the Vulcan unclenches the grip of his hands upon each other and turns toward the part of the room he reserves for the rite of meditation.

In the end, he only discovers two things: he is attracted to the fiery, colorful brightness of Leonard's mind in a way that could be both wholly satisfying and very dangerous; and yet more surprising than that...

He is already bonded to the human.

_Leonard_, the bond whispers silkily to Spock, _is part of what it means to be whole. Find him and do not let him go!_

But there is a truth missing. He must have let the human go once before, or there would not be an utter lack of memory of being bonded. There would not be this odd slippery sheen to any of his memories dating farther back than a few weeks, which makes them fly out of his grasp when he reaches for them.

Would the same thing happen if he ventures into McCoy's mind again? Would the memories seem odd and grey and misshapen?

And should he explain to Leonard how they are bound?

The questions compile at an alarming rate and wear at an already tired mind long into the evening. When Spock comes back to himself, some several minutes past the beginning of his shift (thereby alarming most of the staff scheduled to work alongside him), he is no better prepared to face McCoy than he was when he asked the man to leave his room.

Then there is a reason to temporarily turn aside his preoccupation with McCoy. Jim returns to the Enterprise midway through beta shift, features drawn and a pallor to his skin that indicates illness.

Spock offers to walk him down to Sickbay.

"Request denied," Kirk rebuffs him in a flat voice, brushing past to the door of the Ready Room.

This does not make sense to Spock, particularly when the offer had been nothing less than a barely disguised method to inform the Captain the First Officer deemed a visit to Sickbay for him quite necessary. He turns the conn over to Engineer Scott, who looks as shocked as the rest of the personnel on the Bridge, and enters the Ready Room.

The way Jim has braced his arm against the wall suggests he is barely supporting his own weight. Kirk does not turn around at Spock's approach, only says, "Must we do this again, Mr. Spock?"

"I do not know to what you refer, Captain. If you are unwell, you should go to the medical bay." There is an alternative Jim might not protest so fiercely. "Or, if discretion is required, I could make a private call to Dr. McCoy."

The human's laugh is abrupt and bitter.

"Captain?"

Jim's arm slips from the wall as he turns sideways, not quite addressing Spock face-to-face but acknowledging him nonetheless. The muscles of his jaw spasm as if he means to speak but is prevented from doing so.

Spock moves closer, preparing to catch the man should he suffer a collapse. Certainly he looks as though he is going to.

But Jim surprises him. "Spock," the man says at last, "I need you to promise me something."

Spock waits for the rest.

"...If you have a chance to learn a truth or be content with what you have, choose the contentment."

"Should the truth be deemed unnecessary, then?" Spock feels he must ask.

"Truth is never unnecessary—but it can hurt." Kirk's body shudders with a sigh. "It can kill too. So for both our sakes, just let yourself be happy."

As if that final plea takes the rest of the strength from him, Jim's knees give way. Spock is quick to catch him under the arms and prevent the meeting with the floor from being entirely painful.

"Captain!"

Jim gives Spock a wan smile. "Better call the doctor now, Commander. I guess I'm dying after all."

The frank admission frightens Spock more than he can say.


	3. Part Three

_So it begins again. I wish it had happened in any way but this; this I remember with awful clarity—the deep aching of the body and the unbearable dry heat. Other details, like the delirious dreams, are hazy given how close I was to death at the time. Bones wasn't with me then, but he is now. Half of me hopes that makes all the difference._

_The other half of me knows this is nothing except a cruel joke. I would gladly die. Instead, something much worse will happen..._

_They will want me._

Personal Log, James T. Kirk

[~~~]

"_Vegan choriomeningitis_," Leonard says to the attentive officer next to him in a voice torn between disbelief and horror. His knuckles are bloodless where he is clutching a data padd.

Spock's already tense posture grows more rigid. "Is it a reoccurrence of the disease?"

Leonard begins to shake his head. "...I don't...Well, I guess anything's possible, Mr. Spock, if unlikely. Meningitis isn't a sickness that flares up every few years or so once it's been introduced into the bloodstream. It either kills you the first time around, or it doesn't. Jim survived. Frankly, he's supposed to be _immune_ to the damn thing by now!" McCoy looks down at the results of Kirk's blood test like it has betrayed him.

"Regardless of the likelihood, you can treat the illness." The concern is not phrased as a question.

This time Leonard nods with assurance. "Yes. Jim's experiencing only the muscle pain at the moment. I'd say we caught it in plenty of time. If he'd been feverish..." But the doctor doesn't finish that statement, just swallows hard. "The diagnosis may not make sense to me, but I can say his prognosis seems favorable. I've already started him on a similar kind of treatment to the one used to cure him last time 'round."

"Why would you not implement an identical treatment, Doctor?"

"For a simple reason, Commander: according to the medical records, _that_ treatment almost killed Jim in the process of making him better." McCoy's mouth twitches, then, as he voices an afterthought. "Should I be worried that you doubt my medical wisdom?"

"I apologize."

His twitch of the mouth transforms into a faintly amused smile. "It's all right. I'd question me too if I were in your shoes." Leonard sobers, his visage becoming grim once again. "We enacted standard quarantine protocol, of course."

"Understood."

"...So Jim's not allowed visitors."

The Vulcan's "Indeed" is quite equable.

"Damn it, Spock! You do realize I'm trying to boot you from my medical bay, right?"

"Affirmative."

A long-suffering sigh explodes from the doctor. "Why do I even bother?" He waves halfheartedly at a vacant chair. "Fine, stay if you want. Just don't get underfoot." Turning away to leave, he is stopped short by an uncanny sensation shivering along his spine that Spock is about to touch him. He glances over his shoulder in time to catch the Vulcan quickly tucking one of his hands out of sight behind his back.

The Vulcan's expression gives nothing away. "Thank you, Dr. McCoy."

Leonard accepts the gratitude with a bemused nod.

What the devil is up with Spock? If he didn't know better, he would think something other than Jim's condition is preoccupying the Vulcan.

But that cannot matter right now. His hands are full enough with a sick captain. This episode of Kirk's is very wrong, though Leonard is unable to pinpoint exactly why. It's too spontaneous, too...

Leonard shakes his head to force away some of his confusion. If there is any place the unlikely is likely to happen, and to any particular person, it would be on this starship to Captain James Tiberius Kirk. That, the doctor can always feel certain of.

At this point, he only need do his job and put Jim on the path to recovery.

* * *

"_Jim_."

The mouth piece attached to the protective gear distorts normal speech patterns into something vaguely computerized. Jim blinks open bleary eyes anyway, as though he recognizes the hint of McCoy in that distortion.

"...Bones?"

Kirk's body temperature is surprisingly level at the moment (for which Leonard is immensely grateful) but his voice sounds horrid.

Leonard reaches down to gently ease his patient into an upright position. Then he fumbles for the water canteen on a side table, grasping it awkwardly in his gloved hands, and holds it to Jim's mouth. Jim swallows a mouthful of water, giving a light cough afterwards.

"Dry," Kirk rasps. "Thanks."

"I know," Leonard says soothingly.

His fingers spasm inside his gloves. If he could touch Jim, skin to skin, it would be so much better. The biobed's monitoring system is calibrated to alert him at any small spike in body temperature, but an electronic device simply doesn't grant Leonard the same comfort he would feel if he could lay his own hand upon Jim's forehead.

"How's the pain?" he asks.

"Three," the captain responds slowly.

Hesitation means double the estimate. Six, then. That's better than when Jim first came in, being half-dragged through the doors of Sickbay by his First Officer. It was clear to Leonard straight away the man was in such pain he could barely stand on his own two feet.

McCoy's body aches sympathetically at the thought. Patting the hand hidden beneath a thermal blanket, Leonard offers, "I can increase the meds a little more."

Jim gives an abbreviated shake of his head.

With a sudden swell of tenderness, Leonard brushes a short lock of hair away from his patient's forehead. "It's gonna be a'right, Jim-boy," he murmurs. "I promise."

Jim's eyes, which had lowered at the touch, jerk open. He looks startled and, for a brief second, scared. But when Jim tries to speak, the dry state of his throat sends him into a coughing fit instead.

Leonard feels bad for upsetting the man even though he doesn't know how he managed to do it. "Sorry," he apologizes once, twice. "Here." He thrusts the canteen bottle back into Jim's free hand.

A last cough racks Kirk's frame as he flops back onto his pillow with an air of defeat, eyes closed. McCoy catches the water bottle before it can tilt sideways to flood the bed and gently removes it from the limp grasp of Jim's fingers. After setting the bottle aside, Leonard motions for the assistant who had entered the room with him to bring over the tray of hyposprays.

Jim has already had two injections; three are left to go through the next couple of days and then he should be over the onset of the choriomeningitis. As Leonard pushes up the sleeve of Kirk's thin shirt to reveal a pale expanse of the man's upper arm, he thinks it won't matter too much if he stays on shift for the duration of those couple of days. Sleep seems far beyond his reach in the face of Jim's misery.

It occurs to Leonard later that might be a thought he shares with Spock, who spends a very long time at the observation window of the Captain's room while medical staff mill around his still form; Spock simply does little other than keep his eyes trained on Jim.

* * *

Leonard is given a shock during the start of gamma shift of the second day when the tall, thin shadow of the Vulcan appears silently at the edge of his office's open doorway. He leaps to his feet in that instant, heart knocking against his ribcage.

"Jim?" the doctor questions, already reaching for the nearest tricorder and cursing the apparent fallibility of his medical equipment.

"The Captain is asleep. Other than a slight improvement in his respiratory function, there has been no change in his condition in the last four point twenty-two hours. I apologize, Doctor, for any undue grief the unexpectedness of my presence may have caused you." Spock says this as he slips through the doorway into the office.

Leonard drops back into his chair, relieved, and huffs out a small laugh. "We've been doing that a lot lately, apologizin' to each other." He thinks absently he should feel alarm when Spock doesn't come to a halt at the opposite side of his desk to gaze inscrutably at him (like he has been doing for over a day, as if Leonard would not notice) but circles it to stand very near to hand. Instead, Leonard is just baffled.

"Spock?"

"May I ask you a question, Leonard?"

Leonard. _Leonard_. He blinks, feeling the corners of his mouth turn up. So Spock isn't too much of a stick in the mud to use his first name! "Shoot, Commander."

Spock looks at him.

"Ask," Leonard clarifies.

"Do you love James T. Kirk?"

Leonard has been floored by a few questions in his life, but none like the one that flows so easily out of Spock's mouth. His brain needs a moment to make sense of it.

Perhaps it's the noise Leonard makes that prompts Spock to repeat his inquiry: "Do you love James T. Kirk?"

"Do I love...?" Leonard fumbles. "Are you asking me if I love Jim, or if I'm _in love_ with him?" _In love_, Leonard's brain readily supplies. Maybe the choriomeningitis is catching; his mouth is suddenly as dry as a desert.

"Why," Spock goes on to say, like Leonard had answered the question already, "do you love him?"

Leonard wonders if he looks as pale as he feels. "How can you ask me that question, Spock?"

Spock says nothing in response.

"I mean," Leonard tries again, "how can you just come in here and ask... something so deeply personal of me? You wouldn't..." Leonard slowly answers his own question. "...unless it's relevant somehow to..."

"Doctor, I merely require your answer, not your hypothesis."

It's like a slap to the face. Leonard bristles without intending to. "Now wait a minute! I said you can't expect me to answer that!"

All of a sudden Spock is looming over him, not just standing too close. Leonard watches with faint surprise as the Vulcan reaches down to take a hold of his bare wrist.

"I will know if you are lying to me," Spock tells him with a studied quietness.

Leonard cannot tear his eyes away from the fingers wrapped around his wrist, elegantly long, nails blunt at the ends; such strength in those fingers, those hands, and yet they are not bearing down upon him in a way which hurts.

He asks without thinking, "Why are you doing this, Spock?"

A reply comes after a pause. "I am bound to an individual who loves another. It is... illogical. I must determine why."

Leonard hears something resembling a plea beneath those words, and he doesn't have it in him to deny Spock anything, not when Jim is lying nearby, sick and hurting.

The revelation following that astonishes him. "You're in love with Jim!"

Spock stiffens and drops Leonard's wrist. For a split second, Leonard thinks Spock is as equally astonished as he is.

For that reason, he doesn't let the Vulcan retreat. "Spock!"

Leonard catches up to the Vulcan at the threshold of the door, moving too quickly and clumsily to be gentle as he takes a hold of Spock's arm. "Don't you dare run away!" The accusation sounds familiar, but he cannot recall having said it before now.

Spock looks at him, an odd sense of déjà-vu hanging eerily between them. Leonard finally shakes it off as he might a drop of water and shifts to position himself between Spock and the open doorway.

"Don't go," he says, lowering his voice so no one down the hall might catch the urgency of his tone and investigate. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"You did not scare me."

"I didn't mean to upset you, then."

"Doctor..."

There is a war in Spock's eyes—reluctance battling, of all things, wonder. Leonard can do nothing but wait to see which wins.

"Leonard," Spock says at last, "I am not upset. I am... surprised because what you claimed holds truth I cannot deny. I regard the Captain as more than a friend."

"You do," Leonard agrees, and his tone is nowhere near damning. "Spock, I know you do. I can't tell you how I know it, only that..."

"It is a knowledge your heart possesses."

Leonard might not have put it quite so fancifully but he nods, daring to smile a little.

"Fascinating," murmurs the Vulcan, glancing away. "I have the knowledge that you feel deeply for the Captain, as you have the same knowledge concerning myself and the Captain."

Leonard lets go of Spock's arm, stupefied. "Excuse me? Who said anything about Jim and me?"

Spock appears not to have heard him. "When coupled with the fact that the bond exists, my prior conclusion becomes false. Hm."

Leonard's brain gets stuck on one word. "What bond? Damn it, Spock, what bond!"

"Calm yourself," the Vulcan says, a touch of serenity returning to his voice.

Leonard instantly feels himself engulfed in a wave of calm. He rocks back at the sensation because it feels _real_, like Spock had poured something over him, and it is now magically draining tension out of his muscles. To say Leonard is disconcerted is an understatement.

Spock's gaze has returned to scrutinize him.

"Are you...?" Several questions burst out of him at once. "What are you doing? _How_ are you doing it? My god, you're in my mind, aren't you! How in blazes did you sneak in there?!"

"I do not sneak, Doctor."

Leonard shoves a finger under the Vulcan's nose. "Leonard, dadgummit! We're sharing brain-space, you pointy-eared hobgoblin, so you can damn well stop with that infernal _Doctor_-this, _Doctor_-that nonsense!" He is illogically incensed.

...And he just thought the word illogical.

No, no, no!

With a sharp intake of breath, Leonard gives Spock his fiercest glare. "I am _not_ illogically incensed!"

One of Spock's eyebrows hikes up. "That thought is your own."

"No, it's not! It's yours, all _yours_, you walking computer—part of one of your evil, underhanded schemes to turn me into a scary replica of some Vulcan robot," Leonard accuses in a single breath.

_I understand now why the bond must be three-pronged_, a thought, cooled by the logic inherent to a Vulcan, passes through Leonard's mind. _It would be difficult to endure the full extent of your exuberant paranoia without a buffer._

Leonard's mouth clicks shut of its own accord.

Oh, he thinks. Spock is talking about Jim.

_That is correct._

Stop talking my head!

"As you wish."

Leonard leans back against the doorjamb, needing the support. He doesn't know whether or not he wants to scowl at Spock. Would it make a difference?

"Have I distressed you?"

Leonard thinks about it. "...No. Though any sane person would be even a teensy bit disturbed." He can interpret the look in Spock's eyes easily enough. "Quit laughing at me. I am not calling myself insane!"

The amusement in Spock's eyes softens to an undisguised affection. Upon seeing that, Leonard has to resist the urge to take the Vulcan's hand. It's a strange urge, that urge, just like days before when he imagined linking their fingers together.

Spock said something about a bond. Obviously he knows more than he is telling. Leonard crosses his arms and tries to gain that edge of demand Jim is so good at calling up at a moment's notice. "Tell me about this bond, Spock."

An unusual emotion flickers across the Vulcan's face. "Perhaps the K'lthery are more observant than we think they are... They said we are partners."

Leonard's throat works for a moment while he deciphers what Spock isn't saying outright. "You think we're _married?_ But you said bonded!"

"In some cultures, Doctor, the two terms embody the same ideology—that two or more individuals should be considered as one unit if they so choose."

"I know that!" Leonard bursts out, face flushing. Then his face flushes further. "Good lord, you mean 'bond' as in the matrimonial bond of your people…"

Dark eyes pin Leonard to the door. "The matrimonial nature of the bond is only one component of what the union truly represents. _Kashkau, whukuh eh teretuhr..._ Our minds, one and together. _Estuhn wi ri estuhn._ Touching, yet not touching..."

"_K'whuli wi ri k'whuli_," Leonard finishes slowly, automatically, mindful of his pronunciation yet not questioning where it comes from.

"Apart, yet never apart," Spock translates softly.

For a brief minute, they say nothing and simply regard one another.

Then Leonard releases a breath. "All right. I believe you." He lets Spock hold on to his silence a moment longer before saying, "...But I have to know: how does Jim fit into all this?"

Spock lifts his hand toward Leonard's face as if he might touch him but in the end, he does not. Instead, the hand lowers back to Spock's side. "I do not know. Nor do I fully comprehend why the bond exists—"

"—and how we didn't know a damn thing about it." Leonard pushes away from the door. "Only I get this funny feeling, Spock, Jim knows _exactly_ what we don't."

Spock considers him. "Explain."

"It's for same reason I look at him and think _there's got to be more_. With you, I feel like I ought to get to know you better, as good as I can—" The color is undoubtedly high in his face at that admission, but luckily Spock isn't one to tease him about it. "—but with Jim, when I see him, I feel either the same or like I ought to be mad about something. That feeling has just made no sense to me, until now."

"It is not the opportune time to question him." Spock sounds dismayed by this fact.

Leonard snorts. "Well, I swear by all I am that time will be soon, my little green-blooded hobgoblin."

Spock does his impression of nonplussed, which amuses Leonard to no end. "Doctor, must you continually refer to me by that word?"

"What, 'hobgoblin'?" Leonard purses his mouth. "But I like it."

"I had noticed you did not use it until after the mind-meld."

Leonard bounces slightly on the balls of his feet. "Well now, that means it's important, Spock. Clearly," he taps his forehead, "it's a defining characteristic of what keeps us together!"

Spock's eyebrows indicate his disbelief of this notion.

"...Unless you want me to call you 'sweetpea' or 'sugarplum'," the doctor adds mischievously.

"Your initial choice will suffice."

Leonard smirks, says smugly, "Thought so," and pokes his head into the hallway. "…I suppose we should check on Jim. Even when he's sick he snores loud enough to beat the band. Some of the staff'll be wanting their ten-minute break about now."

As if he had sent this thought skittering ahead of them, his head nurse Christine Chapel turns the corner of the hallway, not quite in a rush but not walking in a relaxed manner either. "Dr. McCoy!" she calls out sharply.

"Chapel," he says as he slips into the hallway in front of Spock. "What's got you in a rush?"

"It's the Captain, sir," she says, mouth pressed thin. "Doctor, he wants out of quarantine immediately."

"The man's sick as a dog! He shouldn't asking for anything except another dose of painkillers!"

"That's just it, sir," the nurse says, looking troubled. "Dr. M' Benga ran a new culture on his blood, as scheduled, and the infection is... all but gone. And somehow the Captain knows it and is demanding we release him."

Leonard quickens his pace at this news, certain Spock will have no trouble keeping up. In fact, he is rather grateful at the moment to have the Vulcan at his back.

How can be a disease as deadly as Vegan choriomeningitis simply appear and disappear like somebody's magic trick?


	4. Part Four

**Part Three went up yesterday. Please read it first if you have not!**

* * *

_I woke up, and I could breathe. The worst had occurred without my being aware of it. A point of no return. Once again, I'd failed._

_The time remaining is less than half now. It won't be long until they corner me with their questions. And then, no matter what I say or do or try in order to save us, we will lose._

_I will lose them again._

Personal Log, James T. Kirk

[~~~]

"You're not going anywhere, Captain, until I personally declare you fit to return to duty!"

"Then do it!"

The doctor and captain are at a stand-off in a small room, a man at each end, one eyeing the other warily. Leonard had hustled Kirk into the examination room when he had caught sight of the man breaking out of Quarantine with a security code that should _not_ be in his possession. Spock remains outside the closed door, playing guard while Leonard and Jim chat.

The chat has been going poorly in Leonard's opinion. It's closer to a shouting match, though Kirk is evidently fighting to control the more slippery side of his temper. But it isn't just Kirk's frenetic mannerisms which throw Leonard off: Jim looks inexplicably healthy, barring the dark circles under his eyes. (Leonard has seen Jim sporting those dark circles for weeks, so unfortunately he cannot count them as evidence of illness.)

"You can see with your own eyes I _am_ fit to return to duty, Dr. McCoy, so I expect you to record that in your medical log accordingly." The callousness inherent in Kirk's tone chills Leonard as much as it upsets him.

Leonard stares. Jim must be testing him. Surely that's what this is. "Jim, you can't be serious."

The other man turns away, ignoring the doctor's half-hearted plea, and shucks the standard-issue shirt worn by most Sickbay patients. Apparently he has already scared a yeoman into bringing down a change of his regular clothes. The black undershirt goes on first, then the gold tunic over that. Watching Jim dress for duty, Leonard knows he is quickly losing ground. In another minute, Jim will simply stride past him and out the door.

Leonard can't let him do that.

Falling silent, he sneaks up behind his captain, a hypospray full of sedative he had slipped into his pocket earlier in his hand. This could cost him his job, his entire career in Starfleet in fact, but Leonard would rather face a court martial than allow Jim to escape what is quickly devolving into a dangerous situation. (As if he can let a potentially contagious man run amok on the ship, regardless of that stupid blood test!) He'll just have to turn himself in to Spock once everything's said and done.

He doesn't count on Jim's lightning-quick reflexes or the man's heightened paranoia.

Like an angry snake, Jim strikes out at Leonard's arm. The hard hand-chop delivered to McCoy's wrist causes the doctor to cry out and lose his hold on the hypospray, which rolls under a nearby table. Then Jim is on him, fingers digging into the soft flesh of Leonard's arms. The tow-headed man looks incensed, maybe slightly crazed, like he wants nothing more than to shake Leonard until the doctor's teeth rattle in his head.

"_Bones_..." Kirk says darkly. "Bones, _what_ you are doing?"

"I could ask the same of you!" Leonard tries to pull out of Jim's grip. The hold on him tightens in response. "Jim, let go!"

"No," replies his captor, "not until you promise you won't try a stupid move like that again."

"Damn it, Jim!" Leonard knows he is close to pleading. "I can't just let you walk out of Sickbay!" There's no point in fighting, not like this. He stills suddenly, letting himself go limp.

The wild look in Kirk's eyes fades somewhat, as if he can feel the minute tremor that runs the length of Leonard's body. Finally that unforgiving grip on Leonard's arms eases. For a split second, as Jim's resolve wavers, an apology seems to be on the tip of the man's tongue.

"You will release the doctor," a frosty voice cuts in. Spock is standing just within the doorway. (When had he entered the room? No one had noticed.)

He looks... Leonard swallows hard. There is no proper way to describe how intimidating Spock currently looks. Leonard has seen ensigns flee in the opposite direction when the Vulcan is in such an intense state but never has Spock directed that kind of ire at Jim—_Jim_, of all people.

Their beloved Captain.

To whom, admittedly, Leonard sometimes wants to give a swift kick in the ass.

But never Spock.

As the First Officer steps fully into the room and the door slides shut behind him, he repeats his order coldly like he is addressing a stranger or, worse, an enemy. "Captain Kirk, you _will_ release the doctor."

An almost comical expression passes over Jim's face, but he does as Spock commands. Leonard moves out of reach of both men, rubbing at a sore spot on his left arm. Jim's throat works silently as he looks at Spock; Leonard cannot interpret what Jim is thinking.

"Spock," the doctor tries for a calm tone. (And where is that calmness Spock had lent him earlier? All he can feel in the back of his mind is an angry buzzing.) "Spock, Jim wasn't..."

"Hurting you?" finishes the Vulcan too softly. His stare doesn't stray from Kirk's. "In a few hours, you will have bruises which prove otherwise, Doctor. Do you wish to press charges against this man for assault?"

Leonard's mouth drops open. "Against—against _Jim?_ Are you out of your Vulcan mind!"

"I could argue self-defense," Jim tells his First Officer. The atmosphere of the room has grown too quiet and tense.

"Indeed?" Spock's tone implies he would see to it that claim never stood up in court.

Leonard's hands lift, palms out, because this is _insane_. "Wait a doggone minute, you two! Nothing happened here. _Nothing_," he stresses.

Jim and Spock seem too absorbed in some kind of silent challenge to pay attention to him. And because they don't acknowledge his willingness to let the confrontation go—that sparks Leonard's temper like nothing else could.

Stalking over to the nearest flat surface and object to hand, a table and an empty metal tray, he grabs the latter and beats it repeatedly against the former with gusto. The jarring sounds are enough to cause Spock to wince. With a final _thwack_, Leonard unceremoniously drops the tray back to the table, his glare daring either man to ignore him now.

Jim has a hand to his temple, appearing faintly pained. "Bones, I don't think that was necessary."

"Says the man who looked like he wanted to kill me a second ago," Leonard snaps back.

Jim pales.

Immediately a good portion of Leonard's anger fizzles out. "Sorry, Jim. I swear I don't really think that."

"Bones..." Jim steps back, close to the wall, and runs a hand over his mouth. The gesture gives Jim enough time to hold back whatever else he might have said.

"You may be satisfied without an explanation, Leonard," Spock intervenes, cutting a sidelong glance at McCoy, "but I require one. Captain?"

Jim had flinched when Spock called Leonard by his first name. Why would Jim flinch over that? Leonard unexpectedly thinks if he had the answer to that question, he would know something vital about the strangeness going on with Jim.

Some of the fight had drained out of Kirk at the Vulcan's implacable tone. Now he lifts a hand weakly in apology. "You're right to call me out, Commander. I treated McCoy too roughly—which I regret."

"Hey, I'm no shrinking violet!"

"Doctor, please do not interrupt the Captain."

Leonard whirls on Spock. "Now you're taking his side? Well make up your damn mind, Spock!" A part of him thinks this is the best way to resolve the hard feelings in the room. He'll pick a fight with Spock and Jim will have to mediate, which he always does with a laugh and a fondness in his eyes...

But their captain stays silent, has in fact turned to face away from them as if he doesn't care that they might fight.

Leonard realizes in that moment whatever he thinks of James T. Kirk in his head, _this_ Jim isn't that man. The newfound knowledge hurts him in a way he can't define, and the heart goes out of McCoy.

"Jim," he says sadly, "what's happened to you?"

It seems like Jim might ignore that as well until, looking at an opposite wall with arms crossed (a clear sign that he doesn't want anyone near him) Jim speaks. "McCoy, you need to let me out of here. I have a ship to run."

"You're asking me to ignore my better judgment, sir."

"There's nothing wrong with me," Jim responds, voice flat.

"But there was," Leonard argues stubbornly. "Jim, we didn't finish the treatments, and the choriomeningitis didn't run its course. So who's to say it won't come back the moment you head for your quarters or to the mess hall? At that point, you will be risking your crewmen's lives as well as your own." Needless to say, that is already happening; but everyone has strict orders to stay in Sickbay until McCoy releases them.

He thinks Jim's silence is hesitation, a possible acquiescence that Leonard is making some sense, but then Jim finally looks at him. There is no hint of surrender in Jim's eyes, only a heartbreaking resolve and grim certainty. "The meningitis won't come back."

For some reason, Leonard hears an unspoken _this time_.

"Can you guarantee that?" Leonard asks, partly curious and partly hoping to force Jim into a corner.

But Jim nods once, the movement sharp. "I can guarantee it, Dr. McCoy."

Leonard can't believe Jim would promise that. He looks to Spock, for surely the one person in the room who has little tolerance for baseless facts has something to say about that idiotic statement. Spock, however, has his gaze fixed solely on Kirk. It isn't a condemning look, or even a dismayed one, which the Vulcan gives the captain.

Spock _believes_ Jim.

The world has turned on its head, and nobody but Leonard McCoy seems to know it. He prods Spock with his elbow. Spock blinks and turns to stare in his direction.

"Ask why," demands the doctor.

"Pardon?"

"Ask Jim _why_, you blockheaded Vulcan. He said he's not going to get sick again, and while I know he's good at performing miracles when he sets his mind to it, I'd say even this is beyond our good captain's reach."

"Jim is not lying."

A second voice chimes in. "Bones..."

Leonard straightens and stabs a finger into Spock's sternum. "I don't care! Ask. Him. Why."

Spock turns to Jim and echoes that final word like he cannot think of anything else to do except what Leonard demands.

Jim looks from Spock to Leonard, expression unreadable. "I can't give you an answer."

"You mean you won't," Leonard corrects.

Jim's silence is answer enough to that accusation.

"Jim, you're putting me between a rock and a hard place. I think you know what I'll have to do. If I enter a doubt into my medical log, _any_ doubt, you're required to answer it."

"Is that a threat, McCoy?"

Great, he has both angered and amused Jim in the span of two seconds. Leonard sighs through his nose.

Suddenly, Jim relaxes—relaxes and _smiles_.

Immediately Leonard is wary.

"Of course I should know better than to play poker with my CMO," Jim says good-naturedly. "And that's what this is, Dr. McCoy: one big game."

"A game?" Spock repeats, brows furrowing.

"If this is a game, Captain," Leonard retorts, sarcasm heavy in his voice, "then I expect you think you're playing to win."

Jim barks out a laugh. It's bitter but not, Leonard thinks, directed at Spock or himself.

"Oh, I'm not playing, Bones. I'm being _played_." Jim's mirth vanishes as quickly as it appeared. "Are you done with your questions, gentlemen?"

Heck no! "Now that you mention it—"

Spock interrupts, shifting to draw Jim's full attention. "Captain, there is still the matter of your release."

A muscle jumps in Jim's jaw. "And what is the verdict of my First Officer?" the man asks, tone suppressed to a neutrality that makes Leonard shiver.

"Allow Dr. McCoy to re-run the tests. If they are inconclusive or indicate a need for you to stay in the care of Medical, you will defer to the Doctor's judgment. Otherwise, he will complete the paperwork to allow for your return to duty without protest."

"Agreed," Kirk replies. He looks to Leonard. "You will start those tests now."

What happened? Leonard thinks. What just happened? We lost him.

There is not much Leonard can do but send Spock out of the room and summon Dr. M'Benga to help him prepare a new round of tests. Jim, for his part, settles quietly on the edge of the room's only table and stares straight ahead. If Jim's fingers curl on instinct when Leonard lays a hand upon him, neither of them say a word about the reaction.

An hour later, Leonard gives Kirk a clean bill of health. Jim just shakes his head in silence as Leonard tells him, unhappy, "Congratulations, Captain, you win."

* * *

Once Jim is gone and the rest of the medical staff, including himself, have been tested for traces of the meningitis, Leonard tracks his errant Vulcan to a private corner of the observatory deck and asks, "Why didn't you fight him?"

"To force his hand would have resulted in further retaliation which could damage the morale of the ship." Spock pauses before adding, "I feared he would choose to question your competency."

Which Jim had the right to do as Captain of the starship. It would have required Leonard to temporarily hand over Sickbay to his assistant CMO. Reinstatement is, for any senior officer, a series of trials and tribulations and Command interrogations; in other words, it's a pain and a loss of time they could ill afford.

Yet Leonard finds himself shaking his head. "Spock, Jim wouldn't have done that."

Spock considers him for a long moment. "Are you certain of that, Doctor?"

"No," he responds miserably. "No, I'm not. I don't know _who_ Jim is anymore."

"Leonard..."

Leonard cannot help but draw closer to Spock. It's a relief to have someone to lean upon.

"I lowered my mental shields enough to brush against his mind. He is the same man we remember, that we have always known," Spock says, his hand resting against the back of McCoy's neck.

"There's a 'but' in there somewhere."

Spock's exhalation of breath stirs Leonard's hair. "...But Jim is colored by experiences we do not have."

"Or remember," Leonard adds, pulling back slightly to look at Spock. "I think I'm afraid for him, Spock. How do we get to the bottom of this mess?"

Spock lifts his free arm and opens a closed fist. Silently Leonard looks at the thin gold chain cradled in the middle of Spock's palm; seconds later he tentatively reaches out to touch it.

"I suspect in a relatively short period of time the Captain shall recall he has forgotten to retrieve this."

"He was wearing it when you brought him in." Leonard vaguely remembers spotting the chain around Kirk's neck during the initial examination. He hadn't focused on it at the time. One of the staff would have removed the chain and set it aside with Jim's other belongings after they helped him switch into the proper patient's clothing.

With his thumb and forefinger, Leonard carefully picks up one of the gold bands attached to the chain. "Please tell me I'm not hallucinating this."

"You are not hallucinating."

He glances up at Spock, briefly amused. Then that amusement is washed away by a less pleasant emotion. "Jim doesn't wear jewelry. It's against regulation."

"Do you not, upon occasion, wear your paternal grandmother's ring on your smallest finger?"

Leonard _hmphs_. "A family heirloom is meant to be showcased, Spock. 'Sides, I don't wear it on duty. I'm a surgeon, remember?"

"I am not objecting."

"Not now," Leonard grins at him, "but you did once upon a time." Then he frowns. "Or I think you did."

"It is of no consequence at this moment," Spock replies, plucking the ring out of Leonard's grasp.

"Hey, that's mine!" the protest comes, unbidden.

Spock raises an eyebrow. "Is this ring yours?"

Leonard blinks at it. "...Yes? Wait, why does Jim have my ring?"

"The correct question would be: why does Jim keep marriage rings on his person, particularly if they do not belong to him?"

The world tilts a little for Leonard.

"Yeah," he says weakly, "that's a good question, Spock—a really, really _good_ question."


	5. Part Five

_I told them once I didn't have a choice in the matter. I did what_ they_ asked me to. I paid the price for the good of the many, not the few. In that moment, they will seem to understand. They will sympathize. They will forgive me._

_Then they will say, 'We've paid this price long enough, Jim.'_

_I cannot make them understand that the choice, decided together so long ago, can never be undone._

Personal Log, James T. Kirk

[~~~]

Jim watches them like he knows they have set a trap. He looks livid; he also looks resigned.

"Do you want it back?" McCoy murmurs for the man's hearing only as he leans against the back of the captain's chair like he is long-used to taking up a position there.

Jim's expression does not falter, gives nothing away to the other officers on the Bridge. The tightening of one of his fists on the chair arm is answer enough to McCoy's question.

In the wake of a lack of response, Leonard shoots a sidelong glance towards the Science station as he retreats to the turbolift. Spock, without turning in Leonard's direction, tilts his head ever-so-slightly. They will meet later to discuss the next step in their plan.

* * *

"He won't take the bait," Leonard McCoy complains in the privacy of Spock's quarters hours later, his grim certainty signified by the downturn of his mouth.

Spock has the unusual urge to offer soothing commentary, but logical observation is ingrained in him. "If the Captain wished the rightful owners to have the rings, he would not be in possession of them. He will attempt to regain what he has lost, Leonard."

"How? By sneaking into our quarters while we're out to pilfer 'em?"

Spock considers what he knows about Jim's personality. "The attack will be straightforward."

Leonard throws his hands into the air as if Spock had said exactly the wrong thing. "Then where _is_ he, Spock?"

"He is scheduled to work to the end of this shift, which concludes in another ten minutes and thirty-seven seconds," Spock explains patiently.

"Like that's ever stopped Jim from taking a notion into his head and acting on it right then and there!" grumps the human.

"Doctor, I believe you are describing yourself rather than the Captain."

Spock allows for a flash of smug pleasure when Leonard glares at him.

"You must think all humans are alike, hobgoblin."

"On the contrary. While you and Jim do possess remarkably similar personality traits and, often, temperaments, you are unique in how your thought processes operate, even when you both reach the same conclusion to a problem. As the child of a telepathic race, I appreciate those differences."

His remark appears to mollify the doctor. Leonard's mouth gives its characteristic twitch of humor which will, Spock suspects, become a grin momentarily.

"Darlin', you always say the sweetest things," drawls Spock's companion, blue eyes twinkling.

Spock lifts an eyebrow. "Is this an attempt to flirt with me? I must remind you we are not off-duty ourselves, Dr. McCoy."

Leonard flaps a hand at him. "Keep your Vulcan pants on, Spock. I won't—"

That is not how the statement should go, Spock thinks. Then again, Leonard has never been particular about adhering to traditional colloquiums.

"—offend your delicate sensibilities with my human disregard for propriety when at work."

Is Leonard accusing him of being priggish? This does not please Spock. He is not priggish; he simply maintains control over his baser desires until the optimal time. It seems he must prove this point to the doctor.

Leonard is too innocent and trusting to be disturbed by Spock's sudden approach—until, that is, Spock takes a hold of the human's chin. "There is a technique you humans prefer called 'kissing'," Spock tells him, tone impervious to the closeness of their faces, "because the flesh of your mouth is an erogenous zone."

Leonard, eyes enlarged, makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat. It might be Spock's name.

"You know, of course, that Vulcan physiology is different than a human's. We do not have an erogenous zone, per se, but the psy-sensitivity of our fingertips can serve a dual purpose." He runs a thumb along the man's bottom lip.

Leonard wobbles. Spock aids in propping him up.

"Would you like a demonstration?" the Vulcan asks politely.

"Y-Yes...?"

It is most unfortunate Captain Kirk chooses that moment to enter through the jointly shared bathroom connecting their quarters. Kirk stops short upon seeing Spock and Leonard in an embrace. Were it not Jim but some other starship personnel, Spock knows he would feel deep embarrassment at being caught in such a compromising position.

Apparently Leonard does not consider their position compromising enough. "Damn it, Jim! You and your poor timing!" Leonard makes an unhappy sound, like a child suddenly deprived of a treat, as Spock steps back to put a proper distance between them.

A flicker of amusement crosses Jim's face at McCoy's peeved tone. "Sorry, Bones. It happens."

The doctor sputters then proceeds to compile a list of disparaging descriptions concerning the captain's person. Spock mentally catalogues each description (none of which, he notes with mild interest, seem to bother Kirk), only pausing briefly upon the one that pertains to the blocking of a male's genital organ. Spock does not understand it. However, he feels he must take the conversation swiftly in hand before Leonard thinks of more inappropriate descriptions.

"There will be another opportunity for a demonstration," Spock promises Leonard, which has the effect of simultaneously quieting the human and triggering a flush under his skin. To Jim, he inquires, "Captain, may I assist you in some way?"

Jim does not mince words, as Spock predicted. "You have something of mine, Mr. Spock. I want it back."

Leonard's involuntary glance in the direction of a particular drawer in Spock's work desk precludes the necessity of pretending ignorance. Jim, who somehow knew McCoy would be the one to let slip a hint of the object-in-question's whereabouts, catches the glance and strides to the desk with an arrogant "Thank you, Bones."

At that point, Spock sees no need to temper Leonard's reaction.

* * *

"Son of a...!" exclaims Leonard, realizing his mistake a second too late.

At least Spock is smart enough to block Jim's path for the length of time it takes Leonard to dive for the desk and retrieve the necklace before Jim can.

"Spock!" Jim snaps, no doubt beyond pissed to have his plan of action thwarted.

Spock is as cool as a cucumber when he replies, "Yes, Jim?"

Without another word, Jim pushes past the Vulcan and levels a glare at Leonard. He demands, "I want it, Bones. It isn't yours."

Leonard snorts and unhooks the long chain, removing the gold band he only has to look at to know belongs to him from it. "Somehow I don't think that's correct, Jim." To make his point, Leonard slides the band onto the ring finger of his left hand. It covers the white mark encircling his finger and instantly warms to the temperature of his skin like it had never been removed in the first place.

"Bones..." Jim's eyes linger on the ring as he swallows. "Take it off."

"Why?" he challenges. "Seems like a perfect fit."

The color comes and goes in Jim's face. Abruptly the man gives in, saying harshly, "Keep it" and turns for the door.

Oh, no. Jim isn't getting away that easily! Leonard skips in front of Kirk, planting a hand on the man's chest. Jim's hand automatically reaches up to curl around Leonard's, the wedding ring an unyielding presence between them. After a heartbeat or two, Jim removes Leonard's hand from his chest and drops it.

"You can't go," Leonard says.

"I don't want to fight with you, McCoy."

"Ditto, _Jim_." Leonard studies his captain's face. "But the price for leaving is the answer to a question."

"Must I continue to pay?" Jim asks in a bitter tone, which makes no sense to Leonard.

Spock steps into the periphery of their vision. "Jim."

Funny, Leonard thinks, that all it takes is for the Vulcan to say Jim's name to get an honest response from him.

The man shudders. "Okay." Jim steps back, then, towards the middle of the room, a hard slant returning to his jaw. "Okay. Warning you would be pointless so if you must, ask me."

Leonard is never one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Figuring Jim isn't in the mood to dance around with words, he chooses to be blunt. "How long have we been married?"

Jim's nostrils flare. "We aren't married, Bones."

Spock seems to hear something beneath that flat remark because he rephrases the question. "How long have we been unofficially bonded to one another?"

The look that comes into Jim's eyes makes Leonard regret the question. Jim is no longer bitter or hostile or even angry; his gaze turns cold and level, implacably stern. The look, Leonard realizes, is not meant for either of them. It is himself Jim considers and judges—and passes a sentence upon.

"Three years. The anniversary was last month."

Three... years? Leonard cannot fathom it. "But why?" he demands, voice rising with each word. "Why don't we know—_remember_ that? Jim!"

Jim looks away, still cold. "It doesn't matter."

Leonard grabs the man not unlike Kirk had done to him in Sickbay a couple of days ago and forces Jim to face him. "You, you..." An awful word is on the tip of his tongue. "Don't you dare tell me it doesn't matter! I love you! It _does_ matter!"

He hears the 'I love you' after he says it and knows he won't take it back. It's the truth. Something Spock had realized long before Leonard did.

Jim's facial expression doesn't change but everything about him seems to sag. His eyes fill with an old regret and that tells Leonard all he needs to know.

"What happened?" a not-unsympathetic voice asks at Leonard's shoulder.

Jim fixes his gaze in the vicinity of Spock's collarbone. "Nothing can be done, Spock."

"But you must give us an explanation."

For a single second, Jim appears close to tears. His tone is no longer distant and to hear it hurts. "If I had known this was part of it... Maybe it _is_ my penance," the man murmurs mostly to himself. Then, wearily, "All right. I know I have to tell you. Bones, can you let me go please?"

Leonard does.

"You won't remember the responsible party—naturally that would defeat the purpose of what they've done."

"_Damn_."

A dark amusement passes through Kirk's eyes before it vanishes. "We encountered a new race of beings by chance. At the time, you made the remark, Bones, that it was just our luck we didn't have to even look for trouble for it to find us."

Leonard can almost hear himself saying something like that but the memory fades too quickly for him to hold on to it.

Jim asks them, "Do you remember Triskelion and the Providers?"

Leonard nods slowly. "You, Chekov, and Uhura were taken for a betting game."

"That game depended on a fight to the death between opponents, for the entertainment, enjoyment, and profit of the Providers. These beings wanted nothing so crude—but they did capture our ship and they did force us into an untenable position. I..." Jim's voice breaks momentarily. "...couldn't get us out of it. I tried. We all did. I offered them myself, my life, in exchange for the freedom of the crew."

Leonard has a sense of how that upsets Spock, who would be tightening his hands behind his back in effort to tamp down on strong negative emotions.

"In the end," Jim explains, "they agreed one of us could pay a personal price and they would let the ship, and us with it, go."

"So you did," Leonard finishes, choking on the thought.

But Jim shakes his head. "I couldn't, at first. They wanted me to give up the—the one thing I didn't want to lose." His expression changes, implores them. "You... can't know how I felt. Giving up someone you love, a person who against all odds you thought you would never have, is like living without your eyes or your mind. I had twice that much to lose... and now, sometimes, I wake up and wish I _had_ given my eyes and my mind instead."

The confession breaks Leonard's heart.

Jim looks away and this time Leonard lets him. "I asked them if you could still have each other. They said it might be possible. I understand what they meant now, even if I didn't back then." His mouth stretches in a brief, bitter smile. "But you won't stay satisfied with that, will you?" He sighs heavily through his nose, once again remarking, "...It doesn't matter."

Leonard is beginning to hate that phrase.

"In the end, a decision had to be made. They had the advantage. We could continue to slowly starve, suspended in space, without communications and eventually without power to run the ship's life support. I knew what we faced because I have lived that way once before. It makes you desperate; it makes you hopeless. Of those Kodos did not kill in the initial weeks of entrapment, do you know how many of them committed suicide because they had lost hope?"

Leonard is glad the question is rhetorical. Thinking of the Tarsus IV genocide makes his stomach turn.

Jim's gaze finds them again. "If it had been just the three of us, I would have gladly died alongside you. But the others, the ones who didn't have what we did... can you understand what I'm trying to tell you?"

"Yes," Spock answers softly.

Jim takes Leonard's hand and raises it for them all to see. The gold band catches the light. "A marriage or a bond, however you put it, is a partnership. I told you what they wanted." He holds their eyes. "It was _our_ decision to give it to them."

Leonard feels his breath hitch. How awful that moment must have been for them; and how awful he feels now that he is grateful he cannot remember it. The thought leads him to a new question. "But, Jim... why can you remember this when we don't?"

Spock answers in Jim's stead. "It is not a sacrifice if no one recalls the price, Doctor. Captain, how long ago did this... event occur?"

"Nineteen months."

"We have had this conversation before."

It isn't a question. Nevertheless Jim confirms it, voice turning rough: "Variations of it, yes."

It takes a moment for the implication of that revelation to fully ripen in Leonard's brain. When it does, he cannot speak, he is so horrified by it.

"I've given you what you want." Jim closes his eyes, looking like a man at the end of his endurance. "May I go now, Commander?"

That he asks Spock for permission is an idiosyncrasy which drives home to Leonard what they are putting Jim through. Oh, the pain in those eyes. Leonard can hardly bear to look.

"Jim..." His voice sticks from too much emotion.

Silently, just once, Spock nods.

Jim turns on his heel, the set of his body stiff like a marionette, and exits the First Officer's quarters.

Leonard can only think to say belatedly as the door closes in Kirk's wake, "He shouldn't be alone." But hasn't Jim been alone all this time?

The voice in his head whispers, _Nineteen months._

"It would be unkind to make him stay."

For once Leonard finds he cannot disagree with the Vulcan.

The ring on his finger is heavy, an unpleasant weight. Leonard takes it off and puts it in his pocket, not certain what he wants to do with it now.


	6. Part Six

_I remember during my Academy years, especially in an exam week, how some of my fellow classmates would swear they felt like the universe was against them at every turn. I never took the sentiment seriously, just shook my head and treated it like the exaggeration it was surely meant to be._

_Now, sometimes... I wonder if I shouldn't have scoffed at the notion. How much heartbreak have I seen since the start of the mission? How many people—good, innocent people, _family_—have I lost over the years to mistakes, to the cruelty of both Mother Nature and human nature, to my own career and my very existence? If it is possible for destiny to be against a man, I think I am that man._

_Yet all I can do, as weak as it seems, is continue to survive: to live as little as possible, and simply..._

_Survive._

Personal Log, James T. Kirk

[~~~]

The more he thinks about it, the more Leonard knows he can't sit idle while his captain and his friend (his partner, of all things!) suffers under the weight of terrible despair. Spock doesn't say much in the interim of Leonard's fidgeting and unhappy pacing around the room so Leonard has to leave the Vulcan behind.

He goes to Sickbay. Christine kicks him out within an hour for wallowing, telling him it isn't polite to spread his misery around the department like a nasty disease. He finds Scotty down in Engineering but the man is too busy to share a drink. Uhura would be a good choice for talking out his troubles but he can't share this particular problem with her without breaking a confidence he feels he is beholden to.

In the end, after much aimless wandering about the ship, restless tossing and turning in his own bed and morose contemplation of a ring he can't wear, Leonard gives up. He has to find Kirk.

Jim is alone in his quarters; moreover, he does not look surprised to see Leonard, just wary. Ignoring the tension ratcheting between them, Leonard enters the captain's quarters bearing a tray with two small shot glasses and a bright blue glass bottle of dark liquid. He places the tray on a side table, too aware that Kirk's eyes never leave him as Leonard pours them each measure of the fragrant liquor from the bottle.

"Brandy?" he offers, walking one of the shot glasses over to Jim, who is seated behind a cluttered desk.

"Why are you here, Bones?"

"I thought you could use a drink," he says, then adds more hesitantly, "And a friend."

Jim reaches for the shot glass, much to Leonard's relief. When the man tosses back the liquor in one gulp, grimacing afterward, Leonard remarks dryly, "Careful now. I didn't exactly bring the mild stuff."

"You never do," Jim replies, setting aside his empty glass and turning his attention back to his computer console.

Leonard settles a hip on the corner of the desk, careful not to jostle a stack of data padds, and takes a small sip of his own drink. "Workin' on something?"

"Always."

"Guess being the captain of the fanciest ship in the 'Fleet still comes with a price." He winces immediately, silently berating himself for using the word 'price'.

Jim does not seem to notice, or if he does, he ignores it. "Truer words never spoken. Sometimes I think paperwork multiples faster than Tribbles."

Leonard laughs without meaning to, because he hasn't thought of those furry little creatures in a long time. The memory of that adventure floods back with an almost vivid recollection. "I still maintain we shoulda kept one, just for the hobgoblin's sake. It's the first and only time I've seen Spock get so complacent he didn't feel the need to work every minute of every hour."

Jim sneaks a glance at him, the corner of his mouth lifting faintly. "Which is precisely why he refused one, Bones."

Leonard grins. "'Cause distraction is illogical!"

Jim makes a soft snort, no longer focused on his computer monitor, and idly shifts the position of a padd in front of him.

Not knowing why, Leonard reaches out and stills Kirk's hand, curling his fingers over Jim's. An instant later, he realizes he has made a bad mistake.

Jim jerks back like Leonard burned him and pushes away from the desk.

Heart in his throat, Leonard abandons his brandy on the desk and slides around its side in time to stop Jim's hurried escape. He doesn't touch Jim, doesn't need to, asking, "Where are you gonna go?"

"Bathroom," the man answers, voice flat, like Leonard had asked an innocuous question.

"No," Leonard tells him slowly, "I meant where you are gonna _go_ when things get awkward like this? We're on a space ship, Jim, and... and we work together. Will you be able to avoid us every time?" Following a short silence, he asks more quietly, "Do you _want_ to avoid us?"

"What I want and what I can do are mutually exclusive."

"Why?"

For a second, Jim looks angry. "I explained why."

"Well, pretend I'm as dumb as a rock," Leonard counters, trying hard to keep his tone from coming across as challenging. "If we try to be together, to fight this god-awful curse or whatever it is, what happens?"

Jim draws in a breath, an indication he isn't as steady as he appears to be. Leonard prompts Jim to answer with the sound of his name.

"You forget." Another breath is drawn. "Spock will want to enforce the bond, or you will want to—" Jim looks away. "The point is we can try, Bones, but we can't win."

Leonard swallows down disappointment. "And you know this because we've tried before."

"Yes."

"Oh, Jim," he says, feeling his heart break all over again. "Jim, I'm so sorry!"

It surprises Leonard, almost like a physical shock, when Jim takes a hold of his shoulders and gives him a slight shake.

"No, don't apologize! Just... don't, Bones."

"But, damn it, Jim, why the hell would I ever do this to you! Why would I, how _could_ I, knowing it would be like a daily torture session just to—"

He can't finish because he is in Jim's arms and Jim is in his, and they are holding onto each other as if the world is ending. He feels a tremor run through Jim, buries his face in the crook of Jim's shoulder and neck and plants his feet, doing his best to stand against each new tremor as it comes.

Jim is not crying, he realizes gradually, maybe because there are no tears left in Jim to cry, but he is shaking with such intensity, he might very well come apart at the seams. Leonard loosens one arm enough that he can run a hand up and down the length of Kirk's back, the same way he would for a child in distress.

Eventually the shaking subsides. Leonard waits until Jim's head lifts a little, dazedly, from his shoulder, and then he pulls back to cup the man's still down-turned face. "I'm more sorry than I can say, Jim, 'n even more sorry because it's hard not to love you. You can make a mind forget, maybe, but not a heart."

"I know," the man whispers, sounding so sorrowful Leonard feels close to tears himself.

"I—" He closes his eyes briefly. "I know it's no good but I still want to fight. For you."

In response, Jim places his hands over Leonard's and pulls them away from his face.

Leonard chokes. "_Jim._"

Jim looks up at him, then, eyes red from strain. "Sometimes I think I could hate you… both of you."

The confession is like a knife in McCoy's heart.

"Spock wants the bond, and you want to fight. What about what I want?" Jim asks. "I want _peace_, Bones. I want to be able to sleep at night. I want to… forget too." He drags in air suddenly, sounding out of breath. "God, I never thought I would beg for that!"

And to hear Jim say it scares Leonard to his core. He can only think to deny the words, to deny Jim that very thought of letting them go, of _not loving them_; pressing his mouth against Jim's, he tries to deny it all. It's not a kiss, not quite a plea, just a desperate attempt to connect them before they become lost to each other forever.

And for a long second afterward, the world goes white.

Leonard blinks open his eyes (had he closed them? what happened?) to find a stricken Jim cradling him. He must be on the floor because he can see the ceiling beyond Jim's head.

His lungs remember then he is supposed to breathe. "Captain?" he gasps out softly.

"Bones," the man holding him says, sounding properly terrified, "Bones, are you?—do you?—you shouldn't have!"

Leonard can't make sense of what Jim is trying to tell him. He struggles to sit up in lieu of his confusion.

Jim releases McCoy, falling silent all of a sudden. The terror in his face slowly dies out, replaced by something more distant—and more frightening.

"What do you remember?" the man asks Leonard.

Leonard puts a hand to his mouth, where it is faintly warm, though he doesn't know why. "I don't..." He looks at his surroundings. Captain's quarters. "Did I faint? How'd I get here?"

Jim stands up, offering him a hand to help him to his feet. "You brought me a drink."

The evidence is on Jim's desk, an empty shot glass and a mostly full one, but Leonard sees them and frowns.

"The stuff is strong enough to literally knock a man's feet out from under him, I guess," Jim says with a shrug.

"I... did need a drink. Okay. I remember wanting to see you." He couldn't sleep, couldn't think really, or do much beyond wanting to ease Jim's pain.

That's right. He is the cause of Jim's pain, he and Spock. They keep forgetting that they love him. The whole thing is awful to consider.

Jim turns away, voice stable though oddly his hands don't seem steady at all as he runs fingers through his hair. "...Bones, you should go. Sleep, or something."

"Jim?"

"I mean it," the man says, twisting at the waist to give McCoy a commanding look.

There is an accusation beneath the words that Leonard can't ignore. "What do you want us to do?" he asks helplessly.

"Forget about me, Bones. Don't treat me like a lover; don't even treat me like a friend. Do whatever you must so we aren't put in this position again."

After a moment of watching Kirk and his flat expression, he says, "You're cold, Jim," not accusing, just unhappy and resigned to the unpleasant truth. "I get the need to protect yourself, especially since Spock and I clearly haven't done you any favors in the past, but it still hurts to see you this way."

The look on Jim's face never changes, even as he tells Leonard in a matter-of-fact tone, "It hurts me more."

Then Leonard's captain nods toward the door, and Leonard obeys the silent dismissal, knowing nothing more can be said between them without cutting into an already deep wound.

His inability to help Jim has left him as gloomy and disappointed as before. He spends the rest of the shift pondering the same question over and over, until he hears it on repeat in his dreams:

What can he do?

* * *

The next morning, depressed and simultaneously angry, Leonard locates Spock in the Officer's Mess and drops into the empty seat next to him. Without preamble, the doctor says, "I didn't get a darn bit of rest last night. I'm probably going to go crazy before the week is out."

"Your body requires sleep to function properly. I doubt there will be a complaint if you reschedule your shift today in order to achieve this, Doctor."

"I slept," Leonard explains for Spock's benefit. "I just didn't rest. There's a difference."

Spock looks like he is going to argue with that, and Leonard isn't in the mood to argue. He promises, "I'll work half a shift and take off early, try to catch some shut-eye."

Without another word Spock returns his attention to his plate of colorful nutrition cubes. Leonard has the inexplicable urge pick one cube up and flick it at Spock's nose. Likely that would not amuse the Vulcan in the least, so he doesn't.

Besides, they have bigger problems than the childish desire to food-fight like first-year cadets.

"Well," Leonard asks, feeling impatient, "did you come up with a solution?"

"We could strength the bond."

This strikes McCoy as a bad idea for some reason. "Wouldn't we have tried that already?"

"It is highly likely, yes."

"So let's think of something _different_."

Spock's voice is marginally disgruntled. "We cannot know if an idea is un-tried, Doctor, when we have no memory of our past efforts."

"I know, I know. But, Spock, we're two of the sharpest minds on this floating boat, so that has to count for something. 'N don't you dare contradict me!" Leonard adds quickly, recognizing that particular slant of the Vulcan's dark eyebrows.

"I have no need to do so, Doctor, when you easily accomplish this feat yourself."

Leonard coughs and rubs a hand over his mouth, but it doesn't quite erase his smile. "Obviously I'm not attracted to you for your dull wit, Mr. Spock."

"Indeed?"

"Or to Jim for his modesty."

Unfortunately, mentioning Jim has the effect of sobering them both.

"Did you speak with the Captain?" Spock wants to know.

Leonard shakes his head. "Sort of, but not really. He's developed a cold shoulder I'm not used to."

"You have a knack for finding a way around a 'cold shoulder', Doctor, when you are determined to do so. I trust in your ability to reach him."

Meaning Leonard had gotten past Spock's Vulcan-fortified armor, which he can see is not a fact that displeases Spock in the least. At this thought, his body instinctively leans toward the Vulcan. "You know, if we didn't have other things to be worried about right now..."

A burst of laughter has Leonard abandoning his sentence and settling back into his own personal space; he remembers where they are—that is, in public view of fifty or so crewmen.

Spock appears to studying the heightened color of Leonard's face. "This was another attempt at flirtation."

Leonard ducks his head. "A poorly timed one. Sorry 'bout that, Commander."

"Hm" is all Spock says.

To give himself something else to think about besides inching his fingers over towards Spock's so they are touching, Leonard pinpoints the disruption in the cafeteria, a group of cheerful-faced people lazing about at one of the long tables, and sends them his patented displeased scowl, which no one pays mind to.

"What're they doing?" he complains. "Just hanging out in here like it's an after-school club? I tell you, Spock, everybody's gotten too lax these days. I could swear I see the same three ensigns every day in Sickbay for the same silly problems. What we need is a good mission to shake things up!"

Bizarrely the Vulcan's fork, balancing a nutrition cube on its four prongs, freezes midway to his mouth.

"Spock?"

"Doctor, what was our last mission?"

Leonard blinks. "...I guess that'd be the dinner with the K'lthery."

"And what was the purpose of meeting with the K'lthery?"

He looks at Spock askance, lifting a hand to the Vulcan's forehead even though gaging Spock's temperature that way is nigh impossible. "You feeling all right?"

Spock removes Leonard's hand from his forehead but does not immediately let go of it, pressing Leonard's fingers with an unusual urgency. "Think, Leonard. Who assigned us to a diplomatic engagement with the K'lthery?"

"Starfleet Command?" But Leonard doesn't recall a specific missive in that regard. "I don't remember," he admits.

"You do not. You _could_ not, if we never received an order through the proper channels."

"Then why'd we take the time to meet them at a spaceport?" His head is starting to hurt, literally, the more he tries to puzzle out what Spock is getting at.

"The dinner was meant to further our good relations with the race." Spock's brows furrow. "Yet what it accomplished..."

"Was discomforting us," Leonard finishes, remembering how he felt once the dinner was over.

Spock's fingers tighten around his one last time before releasing him. "Affirmative. The K'lthery proposed we were partners with Kirk."

Leonard puts a hand to his head, because he really does have a proper headache. "What are you sayin?"

"The K'lthery proposed we were partners with Kirk," Spock repeats.

"I got that part. So what? The dinner was—" He pauses, thinks. "—a _trigger_ of some kind?"

"Perhaps."

"But why?" That makes absolutely no sense. "If we're not supposed to remember something, why would someone purposely set out to remind us about it, Spock, if they did not know we had forgotten it?"

But Spock has stood up, is in fact methodically gathering his eating utensils and plate to dispose of them. "Leonard, there is a matter I must investigate. May we meet at a later time?"

"Sure," Leonard says, confused, rising from his seat also. "But I'd appreciate it if you would give me some idea of what's going on in that head of yours. Are we close to a truth, or what?"

"Why would you use that phrasing, 'a truth'?" Spock asks him instead, pausing his movements in order to search Leonard's gaze with his own.

"I don't know," the doctor answers honestly.

"Leonard..." Spock hesitates, then says with care, "I am not certain of what I know, either; thus it is imperative I seek an answer to my question before we resume this conversation."

Leonard lowers his voice, suddenly feeling like all eyes in the room are on them despite that no one in the Officer's Mess has looked their way. "Could it be dangerous, what you want to know?"

Spock inclines his head slightly, a clear indication of _yes_ to Leonard, though he answers with "All questions are potentially dangerous and all truths, equally so, Doctor."

"What can I do to help?"

Spock's silent regard of him is warm. "You could go to Sickbay to work half of your shift. Then you could rest."

Irrationally Leonard's eyes feel wet. He blurts out, "I love you, you stubborn ol' hobgoblin."

A great part of Leonard's headache dissipates, courtesy of the same sentiment which fills Leonard's mind like a balm. Spock turns and walks away.

It occurs to Leonard later, as it must have occurred to Spock during their discussion at breakfast, that someone would want them in this exact position, questioning how close they are to Jim, if the goal was to hurt Jim, especially in order to hurt him over and over again.

And that thought gives rise to another: what if these 'aliens' who gave them a hard choice to make in exchange for freedom never actually let them go?


	7. Part Seven

_They think they know something I don't. I can see it in their sidelong glances, in the downturn of Bones's mouth and the occasional hesitation of Spock's hands. Do they not realize I know them as well as they know me? That, maybe, I know them better than they know themselves?_

_But that can't matter. If I could make them believe me, I would. If I could make them stop before things become worse, I would._

_But I have long ago come to the conclusion it is their conscience, the very core of goodness which resides in them, which will not allow them to leave me to my suffering. I love them for that steadfastness, but I also resent them for it._

_That truth destroys a little more of me each time I acknowledge it. Will I never be free of this hell?_

Personal Log, James T. Kirk

[~~~]

"Captain, may we speak in private?"

The quiet man with his gaze fixed upon a wide screen of distant stars and a lazy nebula shifts at the sound of the First Officer's voice and steps down from his chair. "If we must, Commander," he replies without inflection, not looking at any particular person as he crosses the Bridge toward an unoccupied Ready Room. Spock nods to Chekov to oversee the Science station and follows his captain.

Once the two men are alone, Jim folds his arms and asks, words terse, "What is it, Mr. Spock? Is it about our new orders?"

Spock realizes his motivation was not entirely transparent to the captain in the request made on the Bridge. He has no doubt that they will converse about the upcoming mission at some juncture; in this moment, however, it seems to be enough to walk over to Kirk, without the necessity of speech, and reach out. The desire to have a physical connection between them is remarkably strong and unusual in nature. Spock finds he does not care to question it.

Jim steps back at the last possible second, silently rejecting the contact.

Spock returns his hands to their customary position behind his back. "Will you deny me even the solace of a touch, Jim?" he asks plainly of his bond-mate.

Kirk's throat works with some unknown emotion. "You know I must." Following a strained silence, the man Spock eyes so keenly lowers his face and asks, "Is it troubling you?"

Between them, there has never been much need to express all that they think in words; it is with an almost natural symbiosis that they understand each other so well. Spock knows what Jim speaks of, and he gives the human nothing less than the truth. "The bond, though impaired, is not in a state which causes me grief. Were it otherwise, there are disciplines I could employ to protect my mind because I am trained to as a Vulcan. But you are not," he adds in a gentler tone. "Does it cause you discomfort, Jim?"

Kirk lifts a hand towards his head but aborts midway through the motion. "No," he tells Spock, looking up so their eyes meet and Spock can see he is telling the truth.

Or the truth as he believes it, Spock decides. "You may not be cognizant of any ill effects."

A brief half-smile, thin and bitter, darkens Kirk's face. "Allow me to guess what those ill effects may be, Mr. Spock. Physically: loss of appetite, migraines, change in sleeping pattern, delayed reactions. Emotionally I could suffer from depression, restlessness, mood swings... even paranoia. If the bond becomes corrupt and is left unattended, eventually my mind will weaken to the point that it begins to deteriorate. We humans call it insanity," he concludes with a touch of dryness to his tone. "Not the most pleasant or preferable of outcomes."

"You speak with such confidence I must assume we have had this discussion in the past."

"You got it in one." But something in Jim seems to relent. "You made Bones and I both very aware of the risks inherent in establishing a mental bond. It could be bad for us, Spock, that's true, but you took on the most risk because one day Bones and I will..." Jim trails off and glances away momentarily before rousing himself to complete his train of thought. "None of us went into this blind."

Spock inclines his head, grateful for the assurance. "That we desired the union, to be a part of one another in such an intimate way, tells me of our importance to you and of yours to us." Despite the previous rejection, he is drawn toward Kirk. "Jim... I do not believe I would have agreed to these intolerable circumstances if I did not have hope of its undoing."

"Am I to spend eternity arguing with you, Spock?"

"It is not my desire to argue." Spock tentatively catches the edge of Jim's sleeve and traces it downward. When his fingers touch skin, he watches Jim fight the urge to shiver. He waits until he is brushing the center of the human's palm before saying, "I must know. Why have you no hope?"

"Spock..."

Pain there but beneath that, helpless want and a crushing despair, almost as jarring in sensation as the way Jim's voice grated out Spock's name.

"Jim, when it is logical to admit defeat, you never do. You once told me a captain cannot believe in the no-win scenario if he accepts true responsibility for his crewmen's lives."

Jim's face is pinched, pale; a sheen of sweat gathers at his temples as if he battles some internal foe.

Spock presses gently, "Then why should Leonard and I be the individuals you willingly allow to be taken from you?"

He expects the anger; he expects the sudden, unforgiving grip Jim has on his wrist. But Spock does not anticipate the flash of suspicion and betrayal, or for Jim to say, "Stop it, Spock—stop manipulating me! I am not a puppet to be controlled!"

Then Kirk flings the Vulcan's hand from him as if it has committed a truly treacherous deed. "Don't you dare try that again, mister," he grinds out from between clenched teeth.

Nothing can accurately describe Spock's reaction except horror.

Kirk backs away. Spock follows him, knowing instinctively he must dispel the terrible accusation or lose his captain's trust.

"Jim, I did not—" _would not, could not,_ "—influence your thoughts."

"Why should I believe you when you've done it before?" The human's laughter is cold, full of anger. "How stupid am I, so utterly stupid, to let you do this to me again!"

Spock would deny it, _wants_ to deny it, but cannot. He has no memory of what he has done, nor that they have been in a similiar position before, despite that the chance of him taking such an abhorrent action seems infinitesimal. "I did not sway you," he insists instead. "I touched you to understand what it is that you felt but I had no intention of forcing a change of mind upon you. You must believe me."

At first Jim looks like he would argue back but slowly his expression changes, becomes weary, nearly wan. "I... don't know what I believe anymore, Spock, let alone who I believe. Do you trust your thoughts? You shouldn't. You are a plaything for some master other than yourself. We all are."

This could be the effect of their damaged bond, or it could be the opinion of a mentally sound but desperate man. Spock cannot tell which.

Jim drags a hand across his face. "If you really want to know why I don't hope, I'll tell you: I dare not. For all my pride, my arrogance, and my foolish dreaming, I am a weak man. It takes courage to hope after so long. You have no idea how hard I tried to do that very thing," Jim finishes too quietly.

There is nothing Spock can say, no words that apply to such a confession.

Jim misinterprets his silence. "What else do you want me to say, Spock? I know I've changed. I know I am not the man you once loved."

Spock is struck by the sincerity of the belief; the subtle panic in Kirk's voice is almost physically painful to hear. When Jim turns to escape him, he does not allow it, taking hold of the human's elbow and gradually drawing him forward until they are close enough to lean their bodies together, though they do not.

"You are incorrect, Jim. My feelings for you remain unchanged. It matters not that I have no memories to support my claim. Even if time continues on where we cannot, I will always be drawn to you. As I believe," he concludes, "you shall always be drawn to me. That is our destiny." The words have a ring of truth to them and a familiarity he cannot quite reconcile.

Jim closes his eyes. Spock waits. When the man is willing to look at Spock again, his gaze is pained but hard. Spock recognizes this particular brand of resolve, and it disturbs him.

Yet Jim is not harsh with him, just matter-of-fact. "Destiny is no friend of ours, Spock." The Vulcan would have spoken then but Jim interrupts him. "Make no mistake, I have listened to everything you had to say, and—" For a moment his bond-mate looks regretful. "—though I may seem unkind to you, I want you to know that I miss you too. I miss you both very much. But I won't hope again. Don't ask it of me, please."

Spock retreats into silence while he determines the best way to break this resolve of Kirk's. He cannot choose to accept it, that much he knows. It is not simply a matter of his own feelings at risk but Leonard's as well.

And Jim's, whether or not the human acknowledges the truth of his feelings. The bond would not have lasted as it has if the emotions which bound them together no longer existed. It would have, in fact, already deteriorated and, without proper removal, harmed them all. The fact remains that the strength of the bond is evidence they are not as estranged as Jim believes them to be. The bond is Spock's hope.

But Jim will not listen if he tells him this. He cannot persuade his bond-mate through emotional recourse to allow them to seek a solution; perhaps the use of emotion is his mistake, given that it is better suited to McCoy's dominion rather than his own. Spock is a being of logic, and logic he must wield to his advantage.

In the interim, while he thinks, the Vulcan's hold upon Jim is gently removed; if Kirk's fingers linger against the back of Spock's hand for some seconds before finally letting go, neither of them mentions it.

"I will not demand that which you are unwilling to give," Spock assures the man before him. "I only ask that you consider the intentions of the creatures which forced us into this predicament. Their purpose was to inflict harm."

"And they've done so," Kirk replies with bitterness.

"Affirmative. In particular, they have harmed _you_, Captain."

Jim frowns and studies Spock's bland expression. "I'm the one who offered to pay the price for our freedom, Spock."

"I am aware of your sacrifice. But how does this constitute freedom? Our minds are continually erased—reset, if you will allow the terminology—and this includes all parties aboard the Enterprise with the exception of yourself. "

"That's only because you and Bones keep—"

Anger flares, bright and hot, in Spock but he does not allow it to run rampant; instead he studies it in a detached manner as he would a specimen in his science laboratory, then sets the emotion aside. Nonetheless, the residue of the anger lends his voice a cutting edge. "_Captain_."

Jim does not physically recoil but Spock notices that he has gained the sharper side of the man's attention.

"You are hindered by your need to place blame." Kirk pales but Spock forges onward, wishing for Jim to understand him. "It appears you blame yourself. I also understand that, given certain events which you are forced to relive, you blame Doctor McCoy and myself. It is that kind of anger which can narrow one's focus until one loses a grasp of the situation as a whole."

A muscle in Kirk's jaw jumps. "Are you accusing me of short-sightedness, Commander?"

Spock dismisses the provoking remark. "One basic fact exists: we must remember in order to forget. I believe you have determined by now what can trigger the loss of memory. Therefore I ask you instead: what initiates the cycle? How long is the period between when we forget and when we begin to question what we know? Are there other events which, by nature or by design, facilitate the process?"

Jim begins to shake his head. "That's irrelevant. Something will always make you wonder. Didn't you call it our destiny? That's the _cruelest_ part about this, Spock."

Jim is not alone in his frustration. The Vulcan cannot comprehend how the human so easily delineates the crux of the problem yet seems unaware of it. "No part of this problem is irrelevant, Captain."

"You've said that before."

"Then you have given me an illogical answer before."

Humor flashes through Kirk's eyes, there and gone.

Despite a feeling of relief, Spock does not let his thoughts linger upon it. "I propose that the question of our relationship must be raised, either by myself or Doctor McCoy. Once it is raised, it must be pursued. Otherwise the cycle of events ceases to exist and, with it, your suffering."

"But time isn't repeating itself, Spock."

"Precisely, Captain. _Events_ are repeating themselves unconstrained by time." He pauses, allowing Jim time to absorb what he is implying. "The doctor mentioned a sensation you humans often experience. It is called déjà-vu."

Jim crosses his arms, a sign that he is disturbed. "Déjà-vu isn't real."

Spock lifts an eyebrow. "Why would you name something which does not exist?"

Jim rubs a hand against his forehead. "Spock... This is an argument for Bones, not me."

"I am merely inquiring why it cannot be real, Captain. It appears we have encountered beings who thrive on the concept. They can create circumstances wherein you and I enact some version of a series of unpleasant events. I am prevented from recalling each version but you are not. Therefore you are suffering 'déjà-vu', not I."

Jim makes a pained noise, lifting his free hand to his head as well. "_Spock_. You're giving me a headache."

He relents because Jim is in pain, speaking with calculated softness, "Turn around."

The human blinks at him.

"Jim, if you would, face the opposite direction."

After Jim cautiously does so, Spock raises and presses his fingertips to Kirk's temples from behind.

Jim jumps slightly. "Don't!"

He ignores that and applies pressure at the proper points.

"Oh," Kirk says moments later, some of the tension filtering out of his stance. "Oh, okay." His voice drops to a murmur. "Bones usually does this."

Spock thinks McCoy is the one who taught him this pressure-point technique, given Jim's penchant for migraines. He cannot specifically recall when he learned it, however, so he says nothing. Once Spock has gauged Jim's pain level through his touch-telepathy and is satisfied its decrease is significant, he releases the man and moves toward the room's exit. As he had hoped, Jim calls for him.

In front of the door, Spock turns. "Yes, Captain?"

"Why did you bring them up, those questions?"

So he has not lost Jim's trust after all. "You wished for our freedom, Jim, but it is apparent they have not given us the kind of freedom we desired. This cycle of events must not be allowed to continue."

"We can't win, Spock."

"That is correct. You are not in a position to win this game," the Vulcan agrees with a gentleness belying the levity of his tone. "Leonard and I must win in your stead."

Seeing the strong emotions play across Jim's face, he shifts his stance to allow his bond-mate privacy.

"I know," the human whispers. "I've become useless."

Spock focuses on the closed door, his displeasure detracting from his patience. "No, sir, you are not. "

"I can't help without making it worse."

"On the contrary. I believe there is one thing you might do to aid us which will pose no risk."

"Ask."

In that moment, Jim sounds like... Jim. Gratitude sweeps through Spock.

"We must know what has transpired, of our past attempts. Without such knowledge, we will have lost the game before the first move is made. Please outline each occurrence and include any observations that may help us understand what happens, such as our change in interaction or behavior and those events which may have caused them."

"All right, Spock, I'll do it. You have my word."

Spock thanks him, unable to look back because he can no longer tolerate the defeat in his captain's voice, and retreats to the Bridge. Jim does not follow him.

* * *

A shadow falls across the threshold of the CSO's office. "Did you get it?"

The Vulcan places a data padd to the side before turning his attention to his visitor. "Greetings. You may enter, Doctor McCoy."

Leonard casts a dubious eye over his surroundings as he comes into the room. "Not sure I've been in here before."

"Perhaps you simply cannot recall that you have."

Leonard _hmphs_ and seats himself in a chair across from Spock's desk. "Is that supposed to be funny? 'Cause personally I'd say you have poor taste in jokes."

"I made a reasonable observation."

"Right," Leonard agrees. He does not sound as if he believes Spock. Suddenly eager, the doctor leans forward. "Well?"

Spock picks up the padd he was previously holding and hands it to Leonard. "The captain provided the list."

"I can't believe he did it without making a fuss! You pulled it off, Spock. Congratulations!"

Given the particulars of his long conversation with Jim, congratulations do not seem appropriate. Spock decides there is no need to inform Leonard of this. He watches instead as the doctor activates the screen of the padd.

Within seconds, the human's expression turns troubled and his gaze seeks Spock's. "Am I gonna hate what's on here?"

Spock steeples his finger. "I doubt you will find the contents pleasing, Doctor. However, there is a certain... fascinating quality to the pattern of the data." In truth, Spock hopes they can discuss those patterns in short order.

"Only you, Spock," McCoy mutters in an undertone, "only you."

The Vulcan chooses not to interpret that meaning.

With a sigh, the doctor begins to read the list, making an absent noise of acknowledgement as Spock informs him, "The captain confirmed the accuracy of the data. He has been recording the daily activities of the ship in his personal log for some time, it seems."

"Can we get a copy of those entries?" Leonard asks, squinting at the words on the padd. Spock wonders if the human's eyesight is irritated or requires an examination for anomalies. That would be prudent to mention to the Head Nurse. He will send her a missive once Leonard leaves. It amuses him to think of the possible repercussions of 'meddling where he's not supposed to'; the doctor will not like that Spock recommended him for an eye exam and will have his revenge, however illogical that seems. The revenge shall mainly consist of boisterous complaints and threats, the kind that in Leonard's opinion unnerve Spock—which is not an opinion Spock shares.

The Vulcan tucks his amusement away in order to address the question asked. "I made the request. The captain was not receptive to it." Jim had turned pale at the suggestion. He fears, Spock surmises, what they might learn of his private thoughts. Spock finds he cannot hold the man at fault for that.

Leonard unknowingly echoes the sentiment. "Guess I wouldn't want anyone poking their nose into my personal diary, either. It's probably for the best—what in tarnation! _I don't remember any of this!_"

Ah, thinks Spock. So it commences.

The doctor's spine straightens in an uncanny imitation of Spock's posture as a fire sparks in his blue eyes. "And what the heck does it mean: _probable broken bones from fight with Gorn_? WHEN'D HE GET IN A FIGHT WITH A GORN?"

"You will note, in that incident, he claims his injuries healed rapidly and with little medical aid in the aftermath of the altercation."

Brows bunched together, Leonard shoots him an unpleasant look. "I think I'd remember if he recently got broken in half by a giant lizard, Spock!" Then McCoy becomes distracted again as he continues to peruse the list and sputters in outrage. "There's no way we let Jim be tortured by _Vians!_ Who are Vians!"

"Read on, Doctor," Spock prompts.

Muttering, the doctor does so, finally—and somewhat shakily, Spock notes—replacing the padd on the desk when he is done. Then Leonard slumps in his chair and gives a heartfelt curse. "_Damn it._"

Spock waits for the doctor to gather his thoughts.

"So the choriomeningitis wasn't a fluke."

"It appears not."

"He gets sick or shot or stabbed o-or..." The doctor's speech falters.

"Kidnapped," Spock supplies. Twice Kirk was taken hostage, by Klingons and Orion pirates respectively. In both instances, he notated that Spock and McCoy managed to save him from imminent death.

"...kidnapped," Leonard repeats sourly, "in order to make us realize how much we care about him. My god, it's like we're stuck in a cheap romance novel!"

Interesting. Spock would like to know what else constitutes a 'cheap romance novel'. Sadly, he must restrict his curiosity to the higher priority topics of discussion. "Did you read the other half of the list?"

"Are you kidding? It's just as bad! Exactly how many people in this galaxy know we're married?" Leonard shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "I feel like I'm walking around with a sign on my back that says 'I'm the idiot who forgets his own wedding anniversary. Please remind me!'"

Again, Spock's curiosity is piqued.

Leonard eyes him as though he can tell what the Vulcan is thinking. "You're being awful quiet all of a sudden, Spock."

"I was calculating the likelihood we have informed more than a small group of individuals of our intimate relationship with Captain James T. Kirk."

Leonard's mouth purses. "I suppose I'd tell my daughter and her husband."

"Similarly, it is common courtesy for a Vulcan who acquires a mate to inform those who are part of his ancestral clan."

"'Cause it takes you off the eligible bachelors list?" The human flashes him a grin. "Why, I bet that put a bee in a couple of Vulcans' bonnets!" Then Leonard flushes. "Oh lord, whadaya think Sarek had to say about us?"

"I cannot imagine," Spock answers, tone hesitant. The thought is somewhat troubling.

"Well, we must of survived the fallout," Leonard assures him. "Obviously he didn't get Jim booted out of his captaincy and me relegated to an outpost at the backend of space."

"My father respects you both."

"Because of the Babel Conference," the doctor says slowly, as though he is puzzling out the memory.

"You saved his life."

Color comes into McCoy's face. "I just did my job. And don't forget you took a big risk with your health in order to save him!" After a pause, the doctor shrugs. "I say we give Jim the credit. I mean, he did prevent an intergalactic war."

"The captain collapsed after ignoring his need for recovery from surgery. I believe this disqualifies him for an award based upon laudable behavior."

Leonard's shoulders shake with his amusement. "If that was the case, then he'd _never_ get commended, Spock!"

"Indeed."

The banter between them relieves some of the tension in the room until Leonard shifts and the good humor fades from his eyes. "But you know that just means these bastards, whoever they are, have more material to pull from."

"They do not seem interested in permanently damaging him."

"Doesn't matter," Leonard says, voice taking on an unusually dark tone. "It's not right to play with somebody like that. They're treating us like we're a bunch of pawns on a chess board—and Jim's gettin' closer to his breaking point with every move." Leonard looks unhappy. "Damn and blast... I can think of only one way to fight them, Spock, that isn't on that list."

As could Spock. "I also see no other course of action open to us."

"I just hate that we have do it," his bond-mate murmurs. "It feels like we're giving in instead of fighting back."

Though he cannot comfort Jim, he can and will offer comfort to Leonard. Spock rises from his chair and circles the desk. Leonard lets Spock to pull him to his feet.

The human presses in close and lowers his forehead to Spock's shoulder, sighing softly. "How long?" he asks.

"As long as we must." It will be difficult, painful, for them both to act against their nature.

Questions, those he cannot answer, plague Spock then: Will Jim be relieved when they begin to ignore him, pretending as though they have no interest in pursuing a reunion with their third bond-mate? Will the bond withstand the enforced estrangement? How will the beings responsible react to the sudden lack of what Spock can only assume is a form of entertainment for them?

What bothers him most (and, he realizes suddenly, he is grateful Leonard had not noticed the discrepancy in the chronology of the list) is the number of days between this current cycle of events and the last, which given the correlation of the data should be no more than one week.

Yet it is a month's worth of time not accounted for on the list. Why is that time missing? What happened in that month? Was it insignificant? Could it be that Jim himself does not remember as they do not? He suspects a key to their strategy lies in those missing weeks.

Only, in a place within himself where he cannot give it voice, Spock fears they are still repeating their actions—and the outcome could end badly, then be erased altogether, once again looping them back to the beginning of a state of utter obliviousness.


	8. Part Eight

_The insomnia has worsened in the last week. I didn't think that was possible—because how can being unable to sleep become worse?—but now I am too restless to be satisfied by walking the ship. More than once I will start the slow trek toward the observation deck only to realize, dazedly, I've missed a turn somewhere along the way. My body is traitor to my sleep-deprived mind, carrying me to the places I don't want to go. I have found the door to Bones's room, or retraced my steps to Spock's living quarters, or trailed down to Sickbay, maybe a science lab, and when I finally come back to myself, hours have passed unheeded. I have stood at the threshold of a place I cannot enter like a ghost, a thing separate from the world around it, lost to my own distraction._

_I could be counting the endless constellations of stars. Instead, every night, I am torturing an already tortured mind._

_Why? Why must I do this to myself? Is it because I have gotten what I wanted?_

_Is it because, finally, I have lost the two people I loved more than life itself?_

Personal Log, James T. Kirk

[~~~]

"Don't get near that!" snaps the Chief Surgeon and Medical Officer of the starship Enterprise.

Captain James Kirk turns to look over his shoulder and narrow his eyes in the doctor's direction, though he does retract his hand from touching the thick skin of a purple, cactus-like plant. "Relax, Bones."

Relax. _Relax?_ Leonard eyes the eggplant-colored leafy vines climbing high into the canopy which seem to dominate this section of the forest. How could he possibly relax when he has the sneaking suspicion those vines are _watching him?_

Somebody's up to something, and Leonard does not like it. Why else would their latest away mission involve traipsing through a thick jungle-like planet that is oddly bereft of a cacophony of jungle sounds, except the occasional—and unsettling—rustle of leaves?

But not everyone in the landing party feels the way he does. Spock sweeps past, his attention buried in the readings of a scientific instrument in his hand. He says a word that makes a vein in Leonard's forehead throb.

Leonard shouts to the Vulcan's back, "'Fascinating' usually gets us eaten!"

A hand drops to his shoulder and squeezes the tense muscle there. "You need to stop worrying," Jim tells him, sounding exasperated.

Leonard catches himself in the unthinking act of leaning toward Jim. Suppressing a wince, he straightens and shrugs off the hand on his shoulder with a carefully cultivated apathy. Leonard sees the flash of hurt in Kirk's eyes before it is masked and he has to stifle the apology that springs to his lips.

Oh well. In for a penny, in for a pound. The doctor snarls, "I'll stop worrying, Captain, once I'm back on the ship in one piece! Why do you even need me down here? I'm a doctor, not a boy scout trooper!"

Damn it. He hates this. What's worse is that Leonard feels he is growing used to the aggressive behavior he has to employ in order to cover up his near-slips. At this rate, he's going to be such a sour old man, it'll be a wonder Jim doesn't run away at the sight of him!

Why did he ever agree to this plan to pretend indifference to somebody he loves?

"Bones..."

Leonard is surprised to find Jim's look is tolerant of his belligerence.

"I promise we will return to the ship, no harm done. Now, have you located that life-sign yet?"

At least he doesn't have to act unlike himself while doing his job. "No, sir." Leonard shakes his tricorder a little in frustration. "I think it was an instrumental blip, J—Captain," he corrects in time.

"Spock picked it up, too. I doubt both devices are faulty."

A cold feeling crawls along Leonard's spine. He shivers as though a cloud is passing across the sun in the sky. "Look, we've been mucking about in this rainforest for a couple of hours, to no avail. If something's out there, it's damn good at hiding. I recommend we take a break, decide if we're pursuing the right course of action."

Just as Leonard finishes speaking Spock swoops by again, this time heading in the opposite direction, another "Fascinating" left in his wake. A lieutenant from Science is on his heels, looking as excited on the outside as Spock probably is on the inside.

Leonard flexes his fingers around his tricorder, thinking what a nice projectile it would make at that too-intelligent head. "If I do something untoward to him, it was stress that made me do it."

"Play nice." But Jim's mouth is twitching as he turns away.

Leonard realizes belatedly (distracted as he is by the elated hobgoblin and the wannabe-hobgoblin sidekick disappearing into a patch of brightly colored flora at the other side of the clearing) Jim is going back to the creepy plant. "Hey," he says, hurrying after Kirk, "you shouldn't touch anything until Spock has had a chance to look it over. Or better yet, bring Sulu down here! He has a degree in botany!"

"Bones," Jim's voice floats back to him, amused, "I told you to relax. I saw a strange mark on it I just want to—"

Jim never gets to finish that sentence because the innocuous-looking purple cactus plant unfolds two great big fronds and snaps at his head in a way most cactuses aren't supposed to do. In the next second, Jim's arm is embedded in the middle of the plant.

Not embedded, Leonard comprehends too slowly. Inside its _mouth_. He throws himself forward in horror with a cry of "Jim!" Leonard's hands are close enough to pluck at the back of Jim's gold shirt just before he is unexpectedly flying through the air.

When the nauseating dizziness subsides so that his brain isn't about to leak out of his ears, Leonard opens his eyes and sees Jim from a higher vantage point, still struggling fiercely against the plant trying to suck the rest of his body into its great maw.

_Phaser!_ he thinks as hard as he can, and suddenly Jim has his phaser in his hand, like he'd heard McCoy. But the blast of the phaser goes wild when it's knocked out of Jim's grasp and far out of reach by something with thorny spines and leaves.

It occurs to Leonard then what's wrong with the appalling scene of his captain being mauled by an oversized, hungry plant: everything is upside-down. Leonard looks up the length of his body to find a purple vine wrapped around one of his ankles. "Let go of me!" he demands and kicks at it angrily.

The vine is sentient, it seems; clearly it knows its meal wants to escape. The more Leonard struggles, the more the vine twines around him, until his legs are pinned together so tightly it feels like his bones are going to snap. He goes limp in hope the vine will ease up on its vicious hold (he doesn't want two broken legs; how is he supposed to save Jim if he can't walk!) but the vine won't be deterred. It keeps cocooning him.

"Spock!" he croaks once, then goes with yelling at the top of his lungs. "SPOCK!"

Despite the dark spots dancing in front of his eyes, one of the blue blurs that break into the clearing and sprint across the ground has to be Spock. Leonard sets about waving his arms frantically in Jim's direction. "Get Jim!" he cries as a blur pauses beneath him. "Jim! Hurry!"

The vine catches one of his flailing arms. Leonard curses it roundly and claws at the vine's grip with his free hand. In seconds, the fighting becomes a moot point; the vine captures both his arms and is already covering him up to his chest. He's nothing but a giant piece of purple hanging fruit.

By the time somebody plucks me, I'll be dead, Leonard thinks, strangely not panicked.

The vine slithers around his neck, and the breath goes out of Leonard in a whoosh just before his head is engulfed. For a second, there is a blinding pain in his left side—a rib cracking in half, it feels like. Mercifully the sound of his scream is muffled by his cocoon.

It's all darkness, a sickly sweet smell and bile in his throat. At some point, a second rib breaks. Time could be passing in seconds or hours. Then at long last his cage rattles, the darkness shudders, suddenly caving or exploding into light; Leonard is too near to passing out to tell. But the good news is he can breathe again, surfacing to air like he's been underwater. Then that wonderful air is rushing past him, away from him.

Leonard would open his eyes but he knows he is falling, falling from so high up it'll probably be his neck which breaks next.

Jim is a last fleeting thought. Did Spock at least save Jim?

He lands with a jarring _oomph_ into a substance that isn't the ground, unless the ground is more malleable than it was when they first beamed planetside and is willing to collapse in order to break his fall. Leonard blinks his eyes open once the world has stopped sloshing back and forth so sickeningly; he automatically swallows, grimacing at a metallic taste that can only be blood.

Someone shifts him, rolls him so he is face-up on the ground.

A pale Spock is looking down at him, mouth shaping words with urgency.

Leonard draws his brows together, not understanding, and coughs. "J-Jim?"

Spock's head snaps to the side, features pinched. The Vulcan is gone in the next instant, phaser in hand, leaving Leonard alone.

Leonard lies there on his back in the grass of the clearing and coughs again, feeling weak. Oxygen-starved brain, the training in him identifies with detachment. The wheezing would be a symptom of a punctured lung.

His mind blacks out momentarily, then comes roaring back with the clarity of the situation. He's on the ground right now because Spock chose to save him first. That means Jim, Jim could be...

Leonard rolls onto his side with a moan of pain and decides he's going to crawl if he has in order to find out what's going on. If Jim is plant food, he's never going to forgive himself. He's going to take his guilt to his grave. And then Spock might take _his_ guilt to the grave because both Jim and Leonard will be dead—or the poor Vulcan might be damaged in some irreparable way for the rest of his life.

_Nobody's gonna die,_ Leonard decides stubbornly. He stumbles to his feet, not certain how far he can make it before he passes out from too little oxygen, and begins to limp toward the crowd of figures in his tunnel vision. It's kind of funny how one of those figures detaches from the group and hurries toward him down the long gray tunnel, a tunnel which can't seem to stay stable no matter how much Leonard blinks.

Impossibly long arms stretch out, making Leonard feel like he might vomit, and catch him as vertigo strikes hard and his legs give out. The next thing Leonard knows is his nose is pressed into someone's chest.

"Spock?"

"Leonard, I asked you not to move."

"Is Jim—?"

"Unharmed. Lt. Kyle extricated his arm from the plant."

Spock's not gonna lie about Jim. No, he couldn't. Regardless... "Take me over there," Leonard demands, which due to his scratchy vocal cords sounds pathetically weak as a command.

"Negative."

Leonard plants his hands on Spock's arms and pushes back, finding a spark of anger to buoy his burst of strength. "_Now_, Commander!"

"No," the Vulcan says, looking at him with something awful in his eyes—what a human would label as resignation. "I have made certain my commanding officer is uninjured. That is all which should be done at this time."

It takes Leonard a long moment to realize what Spock is saying. He makes a strangled sound when he figures it out, almost a keening, and Spock closes in on him, muffling the sound with his mouth.

_Hush, k'diwa,_ Spock comforts him, mind to mind, _o__r they will know._

But Leonard has no control over his grief, not in the face of the heartbreaking truth. That is why he is grateful his brain chooses that moment to shut down.

* * *

"Chapel says he will be feeling back to his old self in a few hours."

"He was injured." Blood stains cannot be easily removed, and even less easily forgotten. The thought of it almost evokes a physical response from Spock.

"Yes... but the worst of it has healed on its own."

"I see," Spock replies softly, with meaning, before he pauses. "Thank you for that information, Captain."

He says nothing else. When Jim tries to place a comforting hand on his arm, he purposefully moves away, folding his hands behind his back and crossing the length of the outer ward of Sickbay toward its exit. He would prefer to continue to wait until visitation can be granted, but undoubtedly Jim will remain here for a chance to see Leonard himself. Therefore he cannot stay.

"Spock!"

Spock stops and turns around, obeying the unspoken request. Kirk absently touches his forearm, which is bare to the elbow—the sleeve torn away by the encounter with the voracious plant—but perfectly free of damage. Lt. Kyle had remarked with great surprise to Spock about that, saying, "I shot it with my phaser as you ordered, sir, and the thing just wilted. I was afraid for the Captain's arm but there wasn't a scratch on it!"

Jim draws in a breath. "I feel I should apologize. I know Bones didn't want to be part of the landing party but I needed—" His mouth closes momentarily, lips pressing thin. "I'm sorry."

"As Captain, it is your prerogative to choose the members of the team. Explanation for your decision is not required."

Jim looks stung by his reply, though Spock carefully kept his tone neutral and without a hint of accusation. In truth, Spock could not place blame upon Kirk for the events of today; the true responsible party is not among them—nor has made themselves known in the last two weeks as Spock hoped they would.

The human faces away with an abrupt nod. "All right, Commander, I understand you. Dismissed."

Jim's behavior, Spock muses as he leaves Sickbay, has become more erratic and unfortunately less predictable since they decided to give the illusion of doing as he wished. Logically, Jim should now be content; instead the man goes out of his way to give the appearance there is no exception to their circumstances. He is in turn both friendly and distant, reasonable and manic, slipping farther over the edge of an abyss, and Spock cannot determine why.

Some paths are inevitable; some destinies, unforgiving. Is this what has always been in store for them?

* * *

Toward gamma shift, Leonard threatened his way out of Sickbay (which did no good), called Spock to rescue him (Vulcans, no matter how much they love you apparently, love regulations more) and then had to resort to sneaking out (why should anyone be mad about that when the diagnostic scans said he was perfectly fine!) under the guise of a petty officer with an unintelligible brogue and a pronounced limp.

Successful jail break behind him, Leonard slips into Spock's darkened living quarters, not saying a word. He doesn't need to. Maybe this is something they have done in the past. Another memory snatched from them, the man thinks bitterly.

The Vulcan, having turned in mild curiosity at Leonard's entrance, returns his attention to his computer console and begins the process of shutting it down and switching off the active data padds on his desk. Then, wordlessly, his work left behind, Spock methodically changes into the thermal sleepwear designed for those species with lower body temperatures than Terrans. Leonard pauses by a panel built into an unadorned wall to alter the atmospheric controls of the room to the equivalent of a warm Terran spring evening. Then he sheds his clothes down to his underwear and takes his time unearthing a blanket from a storage cabinet.

Once the Vulcan is settled on the bed in his customary position for rest (upon his back, hands folded across his stomach, eyes closed), Leonard eases down next to him on his side, curling his limbs slightly so he isn't in danger of slipping off the edge of the unfortunately small bed, and draws the blanket over them both. In the middle of the night, he will probably lose his half of it to Spock but that's a small price to pay for Spock's welcome.

With a nearly inaudible sigh, Leonard lays his forehead against the curve of his companion's shoulder and closing his eyes. One hand tucks itself under a pillow and the other hand, not shy in the least, comes to rest on top of Spock's interlocked fingers. Tonight McCoy is wearing his grandmother's ring on his smallest finger because he had needed the feel of a ring on his left hand; but he couldn't bring himself to put on the gold band that belonged there.

Despite how his body is relaxing one muscle at a time under the warmth of the blanket, Leonard doesn't expect he will fall asleep easily in the next few hours. Emotions are churning him up, turning his thoughts every which way like a stormy sea. He can't grasp a hold of all of that he feels, but after a long exposure to this particular stew of emotions, he recognizes unhappiness, disappointment, and regret.

Would it always be like today, with the testing of their resolve to remain apart from Jim? Would they always be forced to choose?

Spock should have gone after Jim. In his heart, Leonard knows that. It's just this damn plan is getting in the way of how they normally operate (save the Captain!), of how things should be when Kirk is at the very brink of something disastrous. Leonard's resolve crumbles into panic at the thought of Jim actually dying, just because they're foolish enough to—

_Cease_.

The command comes unbidden, and Leonard's unpleasant circle of thoughts stops in surprise.

Spock is there, situated at the edge of his mind in a way that defies words. Though they are not as fully connected as they could be, Leonard senses the calm touch the Vulcan is applying in turn to parts of his mind. Leonard briefly tightens his fingers over Spock's folded hands to show his gratitude.

Within several minutes, sleep is pulling him down in a slow spiral toward a desirable blankness.

* * *

Spock's mind stirs from the depths of a restful meditation, his inner senses affected by an awareness of a building turbulence. Though the turbulence does not originate from him, the connection of his mind to another allows him to feel the beginnings of it.

The body next to his, one of its arms wrapped around his waist, is stiff with tension. He listens for twenty point two seconds to Leonard's deep breathing as it hitches and falters with increasing frequency.

The solution is a simple technique, much like the mental ministrations his father Sarek used to perform for Spock when he was a child suffering too vivid dreams. The bond offers no resistance as Spock reaches through it to soothe the razor-edged thoughts which have returned to plague Leonard in his sleep. Soon those unwelcome thoughts are inert, harmless, and begin to drift into shapeless meaning. Spock lingers a moment to satisfy himself that Leonard's dreams are sufficiently protected from the remainder of the rest cycle, and then retreats to the sanctuary of his own mind.

The arm across his belly twitches, relaxes and presses down, once again heavy with sleep now that the threat of a nightmare has passed. Spock initiates his usual ritual to prepare his mind again for meditation; but before he can shape a calmness into his thought patterns he discovers a lingering agitation in his mind is unaccounted for.

Something subtle. Something not-Leonard, which had also roused Spock without his being aware of it. Spock traces it to its origins and is surprised.

Jim is nearby.

The effort required to restrain the body from giving away signs of wakefulness is not insignificant. After mastering his response, Spock focuses on his hearing, picking out sounds which are softer than McCoy's regular, deep breaths. These breaths are suppressed, meant to be unheard.

Knowing Jim is so close to him allows Spock to sense him better. How long, Spock muses, has he been inside this room? Why has he come? Not to alert them to his presence, that much is evident.

_Jim?_ Spock projects, disturbed, seeking acknowledgement of his presence. Leonard shifts and sighs the name a moment later in his sleep.

His dreaming bond-mate's voice serves as a sharp reminder to Spock of who must be protected, and why. With a trace of regret, he forms a single thought and sends it out to seek the uninvited visitor to his quarters.

_You cannot be here_.

For a long moment, the Vulcan wonders if the weakened bond between Jim and himself prevents the human from being attuned to him. But then clothes rustle, someone other than Spock and Leonard breathes in sharply, just once, and gradually the sense of Kirk's presence fades from the room as unobtrusively as it had coalesced. Spock is barely cognizant of the sound of the man's exit, of the opening and closing of the bathroom door.

He does not meditate after his captain is gone, contemplating instead how the air surrounding them has become so still, it is as though Jim had never been in this room with them at all.

[~~~]

He makes it to his desk before the nausea overwhelms him completely. Hands braced on the desktop, arms trembling, Jim swallows repeatedly until the burning at the back of his throat subsides. He gasps for air because breathing is difficult.

_You cannot be here._

The man squeezes his eyes shut.

_You cannot—_

Laughter bursts out of him, loud and jarring in the silence of his private quarters. Jim laughs, and he laughs, sides aching painfully until he realizes he isn't laughing at all but sobbing without the tears.

Stop it, Jim, he berates himself. Stop it! You can do better, you are strong, this isn't you! You don't break...

He forces himself to take deep breaths until the sound of his torment subsides. Shaky, feeling raw, Jim slips sideways, barely catching his body in time to guide it so he lands in his chair instead of on the floor. His arm is heavy, listless, as he lifts a hand to engage the computer. The screen he is long-used to seeing appears immediately, program at the ready.

Jim types in a command. The computer beeps at him, saying in its feminine computerized voice, _Recorder on. Ready._

"...Personal log, James T. Kirk... Captain of the USS Enterprise." Words are not easy to gather, particularly those that make sense. "Stardate—I don't know the stardate." He raises a hand, stops and drops it back to the desk. "Does it matter? No. Stardates don't matter anymore. Today I—"

He chokes on that sentence, hunching over his desk as if in pain and fisting a hand in his short hair.

_You cannot be here._

Eventually, after more practice at deep breathing, Jim is able to loosen his hold on himself and sit up, wiping at dry eyes.

"Computer, stop recording. Erase entry."

_Erasing, erasing... Entry is erased._

Painstakingly, he types the command again.

_Recorder on. Ready._

"Personal log, James T... Kirk, Captain of the... USS Enterprise. Stardate: unknown." Jim closes his eyes, talking into the recorder, talking to himself—and others. "It's over. You did the one thing I didn't believe could be done. Though you forced my..."

A hand seeks the edge of the collar of his tunic, where there is only a meeting of fabric and skin; no chain, and no metal warm of the rings that represented a special promise he had once made.

"Though you forced them to let me go in memory, I didn't think—I never _imagined_ there would come the day the willingness to separate from me would be genuinely theirs. All this time... I was wrong. I did have hope. I did, _despite everything._"

Fist pressed against his mouth, he bears down on the agony in his voice ruthlessly, telling himself to regain control. The recording runs on for several seconds of silence until Jim is ready to speak again in a voice that doesn't break.

"The most awful part—did you see how they looked? At peace. Bones besides Spock. He used to put his hand over mine, you know, like that, so even in sleep a part of us knew we had each other in safe keeping. Spock never... never really enjoyed the holding part but he allowed it when I didn't have Bones, or Bones didn't have me."

His indrawn breath is quick and unsteady.

"My god, what have I done?"

No one is here to answer. But then, Jim thinks, no one has been with him for a long time. He leans back in his chair and looks straight ahead.

"Spock is right, of course. I can't be here. I had imagined leaving before but the matter is more than that now, I think. On this ship, I am the clear and present danger to the crew. Today, Bones would have died if not for Spock. Today, _his_ life was on the line. And for what? More of your petty games? You said they could have each other if they so chose, but you don't want to give them that, do you? Well, no more. Do you hear me? No. More!"

He ends the recording, taking a moment to calm his mind as Spock once taught him and to unclench his fists. Jim stands then, wanting to give this last order as a man facing his fate on his feet. He has that, at least—the honor of not cowing.

"Computer, record in the ship's log, stardate and time. Message to be sent to all members of Starfleet Command and senior officers aboard the Enterprise. Begin message: This is James Tiberius Kirk. I hereby declare myself unfit for duty as Captain of the Enterprise and resign my commission from Starfleet, effective immediately. First Officer Spock is now Acting Captain, until such time as the Council rules on the position. End message."

_Message ended. Processing. Message sent._

Jim stares at his computer for a long minute before turning away. He goes to a shelf built into the small entertainment unit that holds a few ancient paperbound books and one or two personal effects. There is a box made of wood, carved by his own hands when he was a young man dreaming of entering the Academy. The latch is flimsy but no one pries into this box. If they do, they would not understand most of its contents: the little trifles, half-written messages, a pebble from the first alien world he visited. Things which mean something only to him.

It is all he needs. The rest can be replaced...

Well, not the people he loves, not the friends he once had. But memories will have to serve him in their stead. How ironic, the man thinks, empty and bitter, that memories will become his only faithful companion in the years ahead.

Jim turns, prepared to leave his quarters and not look back, to cement the end of his captaincy, his career, and this life he loved by a simple shuttle ride to the nearest starbase, to find he is not alone.

The box slips from his fingers and shatters into pieces on the floor.

"Captain Kirk," a small white creature with nondescript features says, "it is most unfortunate we have come to this... again. You may not leave the ship."

Jim doesn't think, cannot think, simply dives for the creature with a bitten-off cry. It reappears in another part of the room. He charges after it, wild and careless in his pursuit, throwing any object in his path aside, heedless of where it goes. The crash of something against the far wall is a distant sound. He cares not.

"Captain Kirk," the creature repeats, sounding perfectly reasonable in the face of Kirk's rage, "to the leave the ship cannot be allowed."

Jim cannot maintain a high level of energy indefinitely. From lack of sleep, lack of eating during the last few days, and just a plain lack of sanity, he stumbles, falling to his knees, and there he pants in an attempt to regain his breath, hoping to gather more energy to attack.

"Y-You... I'll kill you," he tells it.

"Captain Kirk—"

"Don't call me that!" Jim bellows. "I'm not Captain anymore! Didn't you hear me!"

The creature's tone is implacable. "Captain Kirk, you will remain commander of this vessel. You will be Captain, always. You may not leave the ship."

"I—" Something occurs to Jim, then. "You can't stop me. You're not even there, are you? My mind is this far gone. Like before."

The creature tilts its head in study of him.

Jim climbs to his feet and sways unsteadily towards the nearest door. "I _can_ leave. I know it, I—"

The door slides open before he lays a hand on it.

"Captain!"

Spock is there, catching him under the arms as his knees buckle. Behind Spock is a whey-faced McCoy, eyes wide, his uniform pants on but his shirt wrinkled and inside-out. Jim closes his eyes when Leonard's hand reaches across Spock's shoulder and touches the side of his face.

Then Spock stiffens all of sudden and pivots, promptly dumping Jim into Leonard's arms. Spock's tall frame blocks the view into the room.

The alien bastard must still be standing in the middle of the wreckage that is Jim's room. Jim can imagine it is just looking at them, blinking slowly.

Unless it's not real. He sags in Bones's arms.

Beyond Spock, a regretful tone of voice fills the room, belonging to that small creature Jim thought he conjured. "It is most unfortunate, indeed," the voice says. "For now you all must begin again."

* * *

_k'diwa_ - beloved

**This story is going to end soon, one way or another. Thank you to all who have been following Forget Me Not thus far!**

**And in case it hasn't been readily apparent, I've been doing my utmost to break your hearts along with Jim's, Spock's, and Leonard's. Is it hurting good enough yet?**


	9. Part Nine

**I offer my apologies for the lateness of these final parts. I wrote the epilogue first and, satisfied with that, tried to put together the vision of what led to it... only to end up rewriting this particular chapter no less than three times. Should I give you a warning? I don't know. Suffice to say, I followed this through with the way I originally felt it would end. I hope that is acceptable to you. If it makes you cry a little, well, I'm sorry for that too.**

* * *

Leonard tightens his arms automatically when Jim slumps against him. His fingers skate down the man's left arm to rest along the underside of a limp wrist; it's second nature to slowly count the pulsing beat beneath the skin. The steadiness of it, despite the quick pace, assures Leonard at least some part of Jim is functioning properly.

Beyond Spock, an almost childlike voice speaks. Leonard has only a second to process the threat from the unidentified person and the flash of alarm, anger, and protectiveness from Spock searing across the bond before he is taking one small step in sync with the Vulcan, who shifts his position a second time to better block the path of the intruder. Which is good, the doctor decides, because in his vulnerable state, Jim needs to be shielded. Leonard just hates that he can't stand next to Spock to face this foe as well without putting the man in his arms aside. Leonard is fairly certain Kirk wouldn't stay put long once Leonard lets go of him.

As if hearing such thoughts, Jim stirs with the echo of "Begin... again?" Jim shudders slightly but, thereafter, straightens to his full height, sounding more like himself when his voice drops from a low murmur to the kind of flat tone that warns of temper. "No. _No_, don't you _dare_."

Uh-oh. New plan, thinks Leonard in that instant, and begins dragging Jim backwards. "Spock!" he calls to the Vulcan's back. "Let's go!"

"Negative" comes the immediate reply, stated coldly but not, Leonard knows, directed at anyone except the intruder in Kirk's quarters.

"Spock!" Leonard snaps again, then snarls through gritted teeth, "Oh hell!" as it becomes increasingly difficult to hold onto Jim, who has finally cottoned on to the fact Leonard is making a tactical retreat and forcing him to tag along.

There's only one thing to be done. Leonard pries Kirk's fingers off the doorjamb of the bathroom and gives the man a great big wrench backwards with all the strength he can muster while, at the same time, slipping out from behind his captain and across the threshold of the bathroom door before Jim can react. Leonard's fingers find the control panel on instinct and manually engage the locking mechanism of the door without hesitation. "Override all cabin entrances," he tells the ship's computer with a hint of authority, sending the room into a medical lockdown only he can lift.

Leonard figures it will buy them a few minutes before Jim finds some way around the override. The man's going to be steaming mad, too, by that point. Leonard tells as much to Spock as he takes a fighting stance beside the Vulcan. Spock stares unblinkingly at him, eyes sharp for all that his expression is placid. No flicker of surprise crosses the Vulcan's features or thoughts. Leonard lifts an eyebrow as if to say _well, what?_

There is a subtle feeling shared between them that Leonard has come to associate with the Vulcan equivalent of a sigh.

"It would have been wiser for you to stay with the Captain, Doctor."

"And let you get all credit for saving our hides?" Leonard retorts, but he smiles. The smile dies when he remembers why it was important to get Jim out of the room as quickly as possible.

The creature isn't much to look at: small in build, no taller than chest-height on Leonard, bearing smooth, nearly translucent skin and round eyes almost too large for its face. If it had wing-like appendages instead of skinny arms, it would look a lot like the K'lthery.

"So you're the one who's been ruining our lives," he tells it, anger lending bite to his voice.

The creature studies his face with interest. "I have done nothing other than what was agreed upon with your Captain."

Leonard nearly sputters. "Is that how you excuse your cruelty to others? Calling it an _agreement_, you—y-you—!"

"Leonard."

"Don't tell me to get a hold of myself, Spock! This little weasel's got less moral compunction than an Orion slave trader!"

"Obviously," his partner states aloud, addressing Leonard in private afterward. _However, we cannot afford to let anger rule our actions when we are at a disadvantage._

Spock focuses on the creature watching them in curious silence. "You will provide us with the details of this... arrangement."

"You know of them."

"How could I when you have altered the pattern of my memories?"

Leonard has rarely heard Spock sound so disdainful. He mentally applauds when, in response, the creature's curious expression sours ever-so-slightly.

That's his hobgoblin! he thinks approvingly. Needle 'em with Vulcan snark! Leonard has plenty of experience with how that can irritate a man endlessly.

_I do not 'snark'. Also, if my person is to be termed yours, in the spirit of fairness I should be allowed to refer to you as 'my human'._

It takes Leonard a split second to reply, because no matter how often he practices or how closely connected he feels to Spock, speaking 'through with his head' will never come naturally to him. _Who's being fair? Besides, I'd think such a declaration would be a little too barbaric for a Vulcan's taste._

Amusement colors their connection. _Then you would guess incorrectly, k'diwa._

Eyes sparkling, Leonard teases, _Are you sayin' you and your people aren't as progressive as y'all like to think you are, Spock?_

_Negative. I imply only that to possess your affection—and thereby to acknowledge the fact—is not a proposal without merit._

Leonard cannot help the grin spreading across his face. "Why, Spock, I didn't think your logic could work that way!"

"My logic is sound."

"Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that, darlin'." Leonard makes a playful grab for Spock's hand but aborts the motion at the subtle discouragement from Spock, which reminds him like a shock of cold water they aren't alone.

"You are very interesting specimens," observes the creature.

Specimens? He means glorified lab rats! That infuriates Leonard all over again. But before he can give the bastard a piece of his mind, Spock addresses the creature on behalf of both of them.

"We are not specimens. We are free beings—beings which you have enslaved for your amusement."

"Yes."

The lack of denial is a slap to the face. Leonard visibly recoils. "So it really is a game to you? And Jim... what about Jim's anguish?"

"Necessary," the small creature quips.

It is Spock who leaps forward first, surprising Leonard and no doubt surprising the creature more so when that iron-fisted Vulcan control snaps in half at the casual, callous remark. Leonard is not strong enough to hold back his truly furious partner, not by any means, but luckily Spock has the presence of mind not to fight him when he plants himself directly in the Vulcan's path and doesn't cower under Spock's burning gaze.

With one hand on the Vulcan's wrist, a calming tactic that may or may not be working (Leonard has no idea how to inspire calm in Spock but skin-to-skin contact can't hurt), he says, "Spock, don't."

Spock's cold, angry eyes fixate upon the creature but he doesn't push Leonard aside.

Thank god for that. They can't afford to end up back at square one; an attack will likely earn them that kind of punishment in a heartbeat. He turns around to glare at the enemy, fighting past his own anger for some seconds to say something that won't sound outright belligerent. He comes up with "Necessary how?"

"Why is the Captain's pain necessary?" The creature looks thoughtful. "I believe I have answered this. For sustainment."

"To sustain your amusement—" Leonard pauses, thinks. "Or to sustain something else?"

"Hm." The creatures tilts its head. "It may be such."

He could do without the cryptic responses. Really, he could. Leonard reminds himself that grinding his back teeth only hurts himself. "Jim didn't agree to become your daily entertainment. You've got no right to keep hurting us this way." _You had no right to hurt us to begin with,_ he wants to rage.

Spock is a shadow looming over his shoulder who gives off a vibration of menace which should be contrary to a Vulcan's peaceable nature. Leonard considers briefly stepping aside and just letting Spock have at the little bastard. But his common sense quickly reasserts itself, leaving Leonard uncertain if his rage is completely his own.

_You're leaking,_ he thinks at Spock, only to wonder a second later if he is the one affecting Spock, not the other way around.

A gust of breath tickles the side of Leonard's neck. Then, without warning, all sensation of Spock in his mind is gone. Leonard has a moment of abject fear over the broken connection. The void in his mind has him nearly swaying on his feet with a small noise of distress.

A hand settles momentarily at the small of Leonard's back to steady him before withdrawing. Then Spock slips around McCoy to face the creature, his hands locked in their customary position. He looks to be in control of himself again, if unforgiving and austere. But without the connection, Leonard cannot know for certain what is pretense with Spock and what is not. Not knowing makes him nervous.

The creature, watching Spock, says, "You wish to speak to me."

"There are many things I might say to you," Spock agrees, his reply inflectionless. "All of them would be true."

"But none as important as what lies at the forefront of your mind," concludes the creature. "Speak."

Leonard's stomach sinks suddenly. "Spock?"

Spock doesn't look at him. "The cycle of events cannot continue. You will, therefore, release James Kirk."

The ship's klaxons wouldn't be as loud as the alarms ringing in Leonard's head.

The creature's eyes widen but there is nothing innocent about the look. "Do you wish to make a new agreement?"

"To amend that which is already agreed upon," Spock clarifies, everything about him completely and suspiciously impassive.

Leonard doesn't have to think, not at all when Spock's about to do something very dumb, and just jumps straight into the conversation like his captain would leap into a fire. "That's right, we want a trade! Me in the place of Jim!"

Spock unlocks his hands and in a swift, long-practiced move goes for Leonard's neck—who saw it coming from a mile away and ducks and backs up. For an instant, Spock looks flummoxed that Leonard anticipated the nerve pinch. Then his features return to blandness, and he puts his hands behind his back again, telling the creature, "You will ignore the human."

Leonard scowls at the betrayal. "My sacrifice is just as valid as the one you were planned to make, you green-blooded hobgoblin!"

"Quiet, Doctor."

Leonard ignores him, turning his fierce gaze to the creature. "You're not gonna want a Vulcan anyway. They're too controlled by their logic to have breakdowns, am I right? That's why you picked Jim in the first place. Well, I'm just as human as he is! If you make the trade—"

Hands lock onto Leonard's arms and roughly turn him away from the enemy. After a token resistance, Leonard settles for glaring back at the Vulcan glaring down at him.

"Leonard, you will be silent."

"Oh, yeah?" Leonard counters. "Maybe you should have thought of that before you opened _your_ mouth."

"I can silence you."

Leonard snorts at the threat. "You could try, hobgoblin... but I think we both know it won't do you any good. He's not going to take us up on the offer anyway."

Spock's dark eyes scrutinize him. "Why?"

Leonard hesitates because he doesn't exactly know why he said that; it's just a feeling. He shakes his head mutely at Spock, and Spock releases him.

Something new is in the Vulcan's gaze when he turns to consider their enemy. "We have done this before."

Leonard involuntarily sucks in a small breath. It seems inevitable, now that he thinks about, that they would have tried this too. And Jim? Does Jim know what is going to happen? Is that why he hasn't broken into his quarters by now? Because he knows coming in here is futile?

Leonard's heart hurts just thinking about it, but no matter what, he thinks resolutely, he can't give up the fight. The doctor steps forward, saying, "If all we're gonna do is repeat ourselves until we grow old and die, how can you not be bored of us already?"

"This is true. If we were to focus on you and the Vulcan alone, your adherence to the same patterns would have no sustainment for us," their captor agrees. "It is the other one who provides the variation." The creature cranes his neck around to look at the closed door of the cabin. "I wonder, what will he do this time?"

Something occurs to Leonard, lodging his heart in his throat. "What if... what if—" He can't say it. He looks at Spock. _What if there is no more Jim?_

Though the connection is closed between them, they have always had a way of understanding each other's thoughts when it matters. Spock knows what he is thinking, Leonard can see, because the same thought is reflected in Spock's eyes.

Is there no way to end this madness except by eliminating the one player of the game who matters?

A small sigh, not unlike contentment, comes from the small being looking at the door. "You must fetch him," it says to Leonard and Spock.

Spock is already at the computer console sitting on Jim's desk. "Computer, locate whereabouts of Captain Kirk."

_Working,_ the computer tells them. _Captain Kirk located. Shuttle Bay Three._

Leonard feels woozy when he goes to Spock's side, not quite stumbling over his own feet. Catching a hold of Spock's arm, he leans into the tall Vulcan's frame. "He's going to leave us," he whispers.

Spock does not lift his bowed head, saying simply, "Yes."

Leonard takes Spock's hand, needing the contact. _Let him go,_ he thinks fiercely. Let Jim get as far away from this ship and them as possible.

That is, of course, not an opinion the creature shares. "If the Captain leaves your vessel," Leonard and Spock are warned, "you all must begin again."

Which is worse? Leonard wonders, closing his eyes. Taking away a moment's hope from Jim, or condemning him—all three of them—to repeating this experience again?

When he opens his eyes again, the cabin is empty with the exception of him and Spock. He turns his troubled gaze to the Vulcan. Spock lifts a hand to touch his cheekbone and the bond springs to life between them.

_What do we do?_ Leonard asks.

_I do not know._

"But either way," the doctor whispers, unhappy, "we have to find Jim first."

* * *

At first he can't control his anger. It consumes him, makes him beat a fist against the door and demand entrance; it makes him consider how he can short-circuit the electrical panel because McCoy—stupid, self-righteous, _caring_ Leonard McCoy (not to mention the too-loyal, overprotective Vulcan alongside him)—has the audacity to lock him out of his own quarters in order to cordon him off from danger.

As if Jim needs that protection. How many years as captain of this starship has he stood in the line of fire? It is _his_ responsibility to oversee the safety of his crew; therefore it is _his_ right to protect them as he sees fit including, if necessary, the forfeit of his own life. That belief has always been a subject of contention between him and his subordinates. The captain, according to his First Officer and CMO, must be protected at all costs. If Jim agreed with that, he would have never pursued a captaincy in the first place. He isn't afraid of being at the front line of battle, and he isn't afraid of what that might cost him.

But that's not a cost he is willing to share.

That thought has the effect of pulling him from his fury. He has a moment to think clearly, and that moment is all he needs. Forcing his way into the confrontation may give him the chance to order Spock and Leonard into tactical retreat (not that they would obey such an order, a dismayed Jim figures), but it won't do much in the way of changing the outcome.

The outcome probably _can't_ be changed by this point. Not for him, at least. But he can keep unwanted attention off of the two people who are vulnerable to it. All he needs, Jim decides as he backs out of the bathroom and into his First Officer's quarters, is a diversion.

In the next instant James T. Kirk is swinging out of Spock's cabin and pelting down a nearly empty corridor. _Come and get me, you bastards!_ the thought rages inside him.

And come they will, because what upsets them more than the thought of their little pet escaping its cage? He will find a way off this ship if it kills him!

* * *

Vulcans are sneaky beings by nature but perhaps not so much when they're upset. This is why Leonard lets Spock make the beeline for the shuttle hangar and the errant Jim Kirk therein, and instead of following closely behind, he makes a quick side trip to catch a hold of the nearest wide-eyed security ensign on guard duty inside the bay.

"Dr. McCoy!" gasps the poor young man once Leonard has a firm grip on his uniform collar.

Leonard gives the ensign the stink eye. "Hand over your phaser."

The ensign obeys with prudent expediency. Leonard lets him go and tucks the phaser into the waistband of his pants at his back. He turns away, only to turn back to the young man and growl, "Why are you just standing there gawking? Somebody's about to steal a shuttlecraft!"

The ensign looks pained. "...He's the captain, sir."

"Which," Leonard says pointedly, "does not mean he can authorize a take-off whenever he feels like it!"

The ensign blinks. "Really?"

Do these kids actually get taught anything of use about command protocol at the Academy before they're sent shipside? "_Really_," Leonard drawls. "Next time you ask to see Kirk's permission slip before you let him get on one of those contraptions."

The ensign is smart enough not to disagree with that, at least. Leonard hurries away to find Spock and Jim, barely registering the sudden cry of "Wait! There's going to be a next time?" behind him.

* * *

"What—" cracks a whip-like voice from the threshold of the shuttle, "—are you doing, Captain?"

Jim doesn't flinch and doesn't bother to look up away from his task at hand, though his fingers do momentarily stutter at the controls. "Exit the shuttle, Commander."

"I will not," replies his First Officer, stepping fully into the cabin of the craft.

Jim breathes a sigh of impatience through his nose. He twists at the waist to level his most implacable stare at the Vulcan. "Spock, I said leave. That's an order, mister!"

Why should it be any surprise that Spock takes the co-pilot's seat instead of listening? As he buckles himself into the seat, Spock speaks with a flat tone that belies his calm features. "If you attempt to remove yourself from the Enterprise, you risk the ire of our captors and the exacerbation of this situation."

"You know that, do you, Spock?"

"I have been duly informed of the consequences."

Jim swallows hard, his hands stilling without thought. "So I'm to stay locked in my misery indefinitely?"

But Spock doesn't answer that question and instead reaches across the console to remove one of Jim's hands from the auto-pilot panel. "Jim, I... understand why you feel you must do this. I do not fault you for it."

Jim looks at him. "What is it you think I'm doing, Spock?"

Spock doesn't blink. "Saving yourself."

The words would hurt except they're true. Hadn't he planned this very action only half an hour ago? Jim drops his gaze to the console, struck by the need to apologize. But apologizing won't help anyone now. He pulls away from Spock's light grip and flips a series of switches. The shuttle thrums beneath him as it wakes up.

"I want you to leave."

"Will this help you?" Spock asks in return. "If Leonard and I—and even yourself, if my theory is correct—forget what has transpired in these last few weeks, will it help you?" His voice is inexplicably gentle. "Is it not the forgetting which hurts you most, Jim?"

"Your argument is logical as always," Jim says, a trace of bitterness in his admission, "but you're still wrong. I need you off this shuttle, Spock." He dares to glance at his comrade, his partner—his long-ago lover. He says the one phrase that has never failed him in the past. "_Trust me._"

Even now, it does not fail him. Spock does not fail him, giving Jim a moment's consideration before slowly unbuckling the straps of the co-pilot's seat and standing.

Jim could weep. In fact, he would have said something he never intended to say again—something foolishly sentimental—before Spock left him entirely but at that moment something falls in through the open shuttle hatch.

Or rather, someone.

"Damn it!" comes the familiar curse. "Who designed this blasted thing? There's a hole between the door and the steps as wide as a man's arm! I coulda concussed myself just getting in here!"

Jim is irritated and resigned all at once. "Take Bones with you," he tells Spock in his firmest voice, doing his best to fight the urge to look in Leonard's direction. Give McCoy one second of eye contact, and there will be no budging the doctor from the shuttle even if Jim begged. Spock will listen to reason from his captain or a simple "trust me." Bones?

Leonard listens to no one but his own stubborn conscience. Jim loves him for it, for all that it makes the man a serious pain in the ass sometimes.

"Well, at least _somebody_ has the decency to help me off the floor. Thanks, Spock," McCoy is saying, to which the Vulcan responds with a polite "You are welcome."

Bones is fishing for a response from him. Don't say anything, Jim reminds himself severely.

"'Course, I can see you're too busy _running away_ to care about my poor old bones, Jim."

Jim hunkers over the control console, wondering if it's too childish to clap his hands over his ears.

"Has he gone mute, Spock?"

"Not that I am aware, Doctor."

A hand drops to the back of Jim's seat. It's all Jim can do not to stiffen and to keep his gaze fixed straight ahead.

"So, Jim-boy," drawls a silky, Southern voice near his ear, "are you done gritting your teeth and ignoring me in hopes I'll go away?"

"Spock was just leaving. So are you, Dr. McCoy."

A deep chuckle sends a tingle along Jim's spine. "Jim, Jim, Jim... you ought to know by now, I don't like your plan."

"Like it or not," Jim retorts, unclenching his jaw and sparing a glance for the man who has decided to lean a hip against the pilot console, "you will obey a direct order, Bones."

"Mm."

It's a warning, one Jim shouldn't have forgotten despite that he hasn't been privy to it a long time. No one is more devious than Bones trying to protect a patient—except for Bones trying to protect a _friend_.

Jim sits back in his seat, slightly disbelieving, as his CMO calmly extricates a phaser from behind his back and flicks it on with a thumb. Kirk's disbelief tilts into shock when Leonard trains the phaser on his chest.

"Don't worry," the doctor says. "It's not on a kill setting."

Jim clasps his hands on the arms of his seat and levers himself up. Uncertainty makes him halt midway through the motion when McCoy raises the phaser in warning. "Bones?"

"Just a minute, Jim. Spock?"

Leonard's blue eyes aren't amused, aren't even angry. For once, Jim can't fathom what the man is thinking. The mental connection between them hasn't worked properly in months, so he can only feel a muted jolt of surprise and a quick if elusive assessment of the situation from Spock which gives him no clues; the sensations are akin to seeing a reflection of the sun in a muddy puddle of water. The full brilliance that is the triad bond is lost to Jim, something which he misses fiercely.

He can only ask, "What are you doing?" as Spock replies, "Yes, Leonard?"

"What was it that little weasel said about us? That we're predictable fuddy-duddies?"

"That is... essentially correct."

"Don't worry, I'll explain 'fuddy-duddy' to you later, darlin'." Leonard's gaze flicks over to where Spock is standing, but it's not enough of a moment of inattention that Jim can jump him and snatch the phaser away.

Not that he had been planning to do that. In all honesty, Jim is confused. More than that, he thinks he is rapidly losing control of this situation. What is Bones talking about, and why is it necessary they talk with a phaser in his face?

"So, we're predictable and Jim isn't. I was actually kind of insulted about that."

"I see," replies the grim-yet-somehow-amused Spock. "I believe this irrational behavior would qualify as a rebuttal of the perceived insult."

Leonard's grin lights up his face, and Jim's bad feeling eases slightly at the sight of it.

"Why thank you, Spock! I was hopin' you'd see it that way. Aren't you gonna ask me why else I'm pointing a phaser at Jim, besides the obvious?"

"Why else, Doctor?" the Vulcan deadpans.

Leonard sniffs. "I question your sincerity, hobgoblin."

Something familiar and wonderful fills Jim's chest. Of course they'd banter while Leonard is doing something completely insane like threatening his captain. It's just so _them_. Jim is pained by the fact he hasn't felt this kind of amusement in over a year.

Leonard is talking, heedless of the sudden wet sheen to Kirk's eyes. "The whole thing about 'variation' got me thinking. Barring Jim's natural proclivity for trouble and his even worse penchant for getting ridiculous ideas when bored—"

"Bones, now I'm the one who is feeling insulted."

"Shut up, Jim," McCoy tells him in a good-natured tone. "As I was saying, it's the _variation_ that has value for them—but not ours, not yet." Leonard's voice softens slightly. "So what do we do to stop it?"

Spock approaches in the periphery of Jim's vision. "I believe I understand you, Doctor."

Jim looks between Spock and McCoy, not certain now why the Vulcan is suddenly fixated on him too. It brings the bad feeling roaring back to turn his stomach. "What is it?"

"It would be better, perhaps," Spock says in a tone soft enough to rival Leonard's, "if you did not use the phaser, even on the lowest setting."

"I know," Leonard replies, seeming sad all of a sudden. "Could you?"

Spock does not answer, instead reaching out with intent that Jim recognizes too late. He cries out, "Spock!" but can say no more thereafter, his vision and his conscious state blanketing to darkness from the nerve pinch as easily as he had flipped the engage-switches on the pilot console.

* * *

Leonard lowers the phaser as Spock catches the limp body of their captain. Cradling Jim in his arms, Spock murmurs, "A moment, if you will." Then he is striding away to the exit of the shuttle. Leonard collapses into the nearest seat, all his bravado and his bluffing gone in seconds.

There really is no better way than this. He knows it. Spock knows it. Soon, Jim will know it.

Will he forgive them?

Will it matter?

Leonard lets the phaser drop to the floor at his feet, painstakingly buckles himself in the seat and waits for Spock's return, hands pressed between his knees to subdue their shaking. After a minute or so, Spock slips into the shuttle again, alone, and closes the hatch that serves as the door. Then he silently takes the pilot's seat where Jim had been sitting and begins the protocol for a proper take-off.

"I don't think we would've considered this before."

"No," the Vulcan agrees, voice solemn, long fingers moving by rout over the controls.

Leonard is helpless to stop the words, maybe because he hopes if he says them, the action absolves him of the guilt. "Even through thick and thin, and all the pretending, we didn't leave him. Couldn't leave him," he says, choking, "and now we've reached a point where if we _stay_..."

Spock's response is almost too quiet to be heard by human ears. "When the underlying cause is no longer present, the variation ceases to exist."

Leonard lifts a hand to wipe at his eyes. "I feel wretched, Spock. I didn't think I could feel any more wretched about all of this, but I do." It is the transmittal of compassion, love, and Spock's own feeling of wretchedness across the bond that keeps Leonard from outright sobbing in his chair like a child.

For a moment, the silence between them stretches painfully. Then Spock voices a question, hollow-sounding, almost desolate to Leonard's ears. "Will he... survive?"

It's an answer, a hope Spock needs—but Leonard can only give the truth. "If we're gone? Maybe. That's the thing about love: it can bring agony as easily as it can bring joy. But Jim's a fighter. If we can give him this much, it's the best chance he has." Grief lodges in his throat. "Let's get outta here, Spock."

Without protest, Spock relays the command into the shuttlecraft and beyond, asking the Enterprise to seal off the shuttle bay and depressurize for departure.

* * *

A second creature, small and pale with slightly too-large eyes, appears next to the one who has been observing the latest trend in events for some time. They could easily pass for twins.

"What is happening?"

"They are leaving."

"Then it is as predicted. Our calculations are correct."

"Yes."

The newcomer tilts his head. "To change a pattern of behavior in these specimens has been most challenging. Their mating bond is resilient to many influences. How many trials have you implemented to garner a success?"

"Thirty-four."

"Ah, an unprecedented number. The others will find this most interesting. When is the last trial?"

"There will be no further trials. It is unnecessary now that the specimens have learned the new behavior and will repeat it."

"Confirmation is best. It is scientific."

The first creature turns to his companion. "The one called Captain Kirk is no longer a stable agent. His survival rate is at its lowest."

The companion nods faintly. "I will inform the others. Do you require aid in their release?"

"Negative," the first creatures replies, returning to observe the opening panels of the shuttle hangar, revealing the blackness of the galaxy beyond.

"Then you may proceed. New specimens have been acquired. They are... _Andorians._ These specimens bond in groups of four. We will learn much."

After this parting information, the twin vanishes and the other creature is left to study the final product of the experiment without interruption.

One of the human crewmembers of the Enterprise is bent over the prone form of the Captain Kirk, whose Vulcan mate had deposited him gently on the floor and left instructions for his care to the young human. Kirk groans, rousing intermittently from his state of unconsciousness.

He will wake fully soon and realize his mates intend to leave him. The knowledge will be his undoing. This one has suffered much to satisfy the conditions of the experiment that led to the behavioral change. No more suffering is required of him.

The creature lifts his hand before the Captain comes fully awake, drawing power from his strange existence in the universe to alter what has been so all things, ship and personnel, might return to the moment before this interference for the sake of learning. Time begins anew.


	10. Epilogue

**Part Nine and the epilogue have been posted at the same time. Please read Part Nine first if you have not!**

* * *

_We left the Datarius system with little mishap. Although the ship's computer assures me there is nothing amiss with the Enterprise—as has Commander Spock—and crew morale seems undiminished, I could not help but feel as if something has changed. That I have changed. It is a peculiar feeling: not the kind of red alert at the back of my neck I can readily recognize, and not quite a sense of loss—for if I have lost something, I do not know what it is._

_My Chief Medical Officer has warned me not to look for trouble where there is none. In this, I suppose I must bow to his wisdom. We have returned from an exploration of the unknown and, once again, survived. That is all a captain could hope for._

_Orders from Starfleet Command reached us almost immediately upon re-entry into the familiar reaches of space. Our new mission is to proceed to Sierra VI, a recently colonized Federation outpost along the Neutral Zone, to rendezvous with the _Galantia_. There is a high possibility of a skirmish with Romulans and the _Enterprise_, alongside her sister-ship, must do what she can to prevent war._

_It is never a pleasure placing my crew at the forefront of battle but today, oddly, I find myself ready and willing to fight. Whether or not this feeling stems from our seemingly endless weeks of roaming unchallenged through uncharted territory I do not know._

_But fight I will and gladly, standing ready at the helm of the ship, my most trusted officers at my side._

Captain's Log, James T. Kirk

[~~~]

Jim cannot find his ring. Normally a warm presence against the skin of his chest, he notices it missing upon his groggy awakening. A long search of the cabin and his effects proves fruitless. The absence of it puzzles him through his morning routine but there are duties to attend and, more importantly, a breakfast date not to be late to.

"Morning," he murmurs, taking a seat between McCoy and Spock and casting a honeyed smile between them. Leonard looks like he woke up on the wrong side of the bed, face set into grumpy, sleepy lines.

Come to think of it, why had Bones stayed the night in his own quarters? Jim frowns briefly but the troubled feeling fades, and he reaches for a spoon beside his bowl of oatmeal. He grimaces at his first taste.

"There's something wrong with the replicators," he complains. "Cinnamon oatmeal isn't supposed to taste like cardboard."

Leonard grunts an unintelligible reply and takes a healthy swallow of coffee.

Spock is always the more efficient of the three of them in the morning (of which he must be extremely proud, Vulcan or not, Jim believes). Today, Jim is grateful for that efficiency when Spock produces a small plate of sugar cubes for Jim to put into his food. There's something to be said for partners who know what Jim likes.

That wakes McCoy up, who snatches away the plate of sugar like the food police he is.

"Jim's on a diet."

"I'm not," Jim insists, stealing a cube and dropping it into his oatmeal before Bones can catch him. He eyes another cube but decides it isn't worth the finger it will cost him. He smirks, wondering if he should make a comment about what a biter Bones can be when riled.

Leonard, as if sensing the turn of Jim's thoughts, deliberately knocks his shoulder into Jim's and grins crookedly. "Think about the long hours ahead of you on the Bridge, Jim, while sufferin' from all that indigestion."

_Why don't you give me something else to consider while I'm up there?_ he shoots back mischievously but to his surprise, Leonard doesn't respond.

"Well, give it to 'im, Spock," McCoy is saying over Jim's shoulder instead.

Jim refocuses his attention on the man on his opposite side. He drops his spoon when he sees what Spock is holding.

"Where did you get that?" Jim asks, taking the gold band and chain from the Vulcan.

Spock quirks an eyebrow. "It was in my possession."

"Sometimes I think you'd lose your head, Jim, it wasn't attached," Leonard jokes, mostly so Jim will know it isn't offending to either Spock or McCoy that he somehow lost his wedding ring. But then Leonard holds up his left hand contemplatively and frowns at his own ring. "Maybe I should say the same of myself. Found mine in my sock drawer this morning."

"That is odd," Jim comments, feeling better once the chain is over his head and the ring is resting just beneath his shirt. He releases a breath and picks up his spoon to resume eating his oatmeal. "Bones, I know we just came off a lackluster assignment at the backend of space, but how long until we're due for shore leave?"

Leonard rubs a finger against his bottom lip as he thinks. "I could probably advise Command we need one. It's not like we take 'em as frequently as some of the other ships."

"Good," Jim says, nodding to himself. The back of his head aches inexplicably, which is as strange as the way his body feels so weary, reminiscent of the times he's been running on nothing but stimulants for days. "I feel like we need the break."

"Ditto," echoes the doctor.

After he is halfway through his bowl, Jim becomes aware of how intently Spock is focused on him, though the Vulcan does not look directly at him. It's like an itch in his mind. He glances at his companion. "Something wrong?"

But Spock's gaze skips over him to McCoy.

"Jim," Leonard asks him slowly, "you're kinda distant."

Jim puts down his spoon, troubled again. "Explain."

Leonard does a quick tap to his forehead and emphasizes, "You're _distant_. Are you feeling all right?"

Jim shrugs, stops. "Tired." At Bones's assessing look, he admits, "Exhausted." Which makes no sense. "Maybe I'm coming down with something."

"Hmm. Okay, well, stop by Sickbay and I'll look you over."

Jim groans. "Can't I just sleep, Bones?"

"Nope," McCoy says unsympathetically. Then he stands, cradling his coffee and looking resigned. "Speaking of, I have an appointment I'd better get to."

Jim watches an odd look pass over Leonard's face, but Bones just blinks afterwards, shaking his head, and walks away.

"What was that?" Jim asks Spock, feeling an inkling of concern that he hadn't caught at least a passing sensation of what McCoy felt in that moment.

"I believe the Doctor refers to it as déjà-vu, Captain." Spock stares at him a second too long. The question, when it comes, is said quietly enough to be kept between them. "Do you... feel different, Jim?"

"Define different," he responds with a faint smile, suppressing a wince when the lighting in the Officers' Mess seems to aggravate the headache and cause it to spread to his temples.

"I request permission to test the state of the bond."

Jim is surprised not by the forthrightness of the request but by its formality. "Permission granted. When... now?"

"Unfortunately, now we must proceed to the Bridge for duty. I will come by your quarters after beta shift, if this is acceptable."

Spock is welcome in his quarters any time. It's _their_ quarters, practically. Nonetheless Jim agrees. "Sure, Spock."

Spock dips his head in a slight nod and rises from the table, collecting his tray as he goes. Jim rubs at a temple absently before picking up his tray and following his Vulcan First Officer.

The troubled feeling subsides as he transverses the corridors to the nearest turbolift. Jim doesn't allow himself to worry about the feeling beyond a moment's thought. Because what could possibly be wrong when he has his ship, his crew, and most importantly, Spock and McCoy—his friends, his lovers who he hopes will remain his partners for life—so close to him?

**The End**

* * *

**Author's Note**

"Forget," said Spock in _Requiem for Methuselah_ as he mind-melded with a sleeping Kirk to coax his mind to do exactly that and forget a broken heart. I was always struck by this scene, both for good and bad reasons.

So I will leave you with this one question:

Is it better to forget, or to remember?


End file.
